


These Violent Delights have Violent Ends

by ohthislove



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Anal, Asphyxiation, Biting, Blood Kink, Blood and Violence, Dark!Bruce Wayne, Drug Use, F/M, Kidnapping, Knifeplay, Language, Masturbation, Murder, Panty Kink, Playboy!Bruce Wayne, Smut, Somnophilia, Spanking, Stalking, Torture, Underage Drinking, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-03-20 12:00:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 20
Words: 82,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18992242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohthislove/pseuds/ohthislove
Summary: Bruce Wayne is addicted to a lot of things to distract from his dark urges, but his addiction to you might only increase them.





	1. Too Much of a Bad Thing

# Act One: Violent Delights

I hated the color red.

Mostly because it reminded me of blood, which reminded me of other things, but I especially hated when the lights in my club the Towers turned red. The air felt ten degrees hotter, the music sounded louder, and the sweaty, gyrating bodies on the dance floor looked like demons drowning in a sea of crimson. It looked like hell.

Well, if this was hell, maybe it won’t be so bad after all.

Grace Blomdahl sat on my lap, raunchily grinding her hips against mine while she sucked the same hickey on my neck she had given me a week ago. I took a sip from the martini I was holding, the burn of the gin no longer stinging my throat, and rolled my eyes, not the least bit hard. I put my free hand on her shoulder and pushed her back. “That’s enough,” I grumbled.

She straddled my hips and looked at me like a kicked puppy. A string of saliva dripped from her swollen lips, and her brown irises were mere rings around her dilated pupils. That was probably due to the Adderall she had taken earlier. “What’s wrong?” She pouted.

_God, not this again._ Anytime I denied her what she wanted, she played the pity card and made me look like an asshat, and the last thing I wanted people to think was that I was some sort of buzzkill. I drained the rest of my martini and held the empty glass out to her. “My drink is gone. Mind getting me another one?” I forced a smile.

“If a drink’s not strong enough for you, Bruce, I don’t mind sharing!” Tommy Elliot shouted over the music next to me and gestured to the lines of white powder on the glass coffee table.

Grace groaned. “Ignore him.” She plucked the glass out of my hand and climbed off of my lap. “I’ll get you your drink, and when I come back, we can pick up where we left off.” She winked before retreating into the crowd surrounding the bar.

I slumped in the velvet booth the second she disappeared from view. “You two are chummy, aren’t you?” Tommy teased.

“Anything but.” I ran a hand down the side of my face. “I sleep with her a few times, and all of a sudden she thinks we’re an item. I mean, how many times can you fuck a girl before you just get bored?”

He hummed in agreement. “She’s getting too comfortable. You need some fresh meat.” He pointed towards the packed dance floor. “There’s plenty of girls here tonight. Why don’t you go snag one?”

I nodded before my gaze drifted down to the neat, white lines on the table. “I will. But first, I need a pick me up.” I extended my hand to him with my palm facing up. “Give me a dollar bill.”

One line later, I was on the dance floor, moving to the music along with the rest of the intoxicated club-goers around me. It was hard to think with the alcohol in my system and the bright lights and the blaring music, but I didn’t want to think. I wanted to get lost, to forget about everything for a while, and it was easy to do so as my vision blurred, the colored lights running together like a watercolor painting left out in the rain. The music sounded canned and muffled to my ears, and my head felt clouded, like it was stuffed with cotton.

Then, everything came into focus when I spotted you across the room. The air was sucked from my lungs as my gaze raked over your form. You wore a skintight, red dress that clung to your curves and moved elegantly in your four inch heels. Your body was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, making your skin shine under the lights, and your complexion was flushed, probably from the heat and the crowd. You had a face that looked like it was carved out of marble by Michelangelo himself. You were the epitome of red, and I was starting to think I didn’t hate the color as much as I thought I did. Maybe too much of a bad thing was good after all.

I immediately started shoving my way through the crowd to get to you, catching glimpses of you between the writhing bodies as I did so. You were dancing on the edge of the dance floor by yourself, which was odd because usually girls came to the Towers in flocks, but I didn’t mind. In fact, it would only make you easier to catch. I snuck up behind you and gently placed my hands on your hips, pulling you flush against me. You leaned into me and allowed me to move you to the beat. This close, I could smell the sweet scent of your perfume and feel the warmth radiating off of your skin. It was heavenly.

You looked over your shoulder at me, and the bright lights made your eyes sparkle. “I was wondering when you’d come over to me.” Your voice was smooth and sweet, like honey or molasses. It was playful and flirtatious, but had a low, sultry undertone to it.

That caused a smirk to spread across my face. You had been watching me? Though, I couldn’t say I was surprised. It was no secret that I was good-looking, and girls usually tripped over each other to get a chance with me. But it still made me excited to know that you had noticed me, too. “You’ve been watching me?”

“Don’t let that inflate your ego.” You winked. “You were watching me too.”

I leaned down to whisper in your ear so I could be heard over the deafening music, “I haven’t seen you around here before.”

You laughed, and it was like the peel of bells. “Is that a fancy way of asking if I come here often?”

I ground my hips against your ass. “What if it is?”

You went with it and rolled your hips, your ass rubbing against my growing erection. “Then, I would tell you that it’s my first time here.” Suddenly, you whirled around and placed your hands on my shoulders. You were quite the little minx, weren’t you? You knew exactly how to tease a guy.

“Well, since I am the owner and all, maybe I should show you around.” I pulled you closer so your chest was pressed against mine. “My name is Bruce Wayne. What’s yours, gorgeous?”

You quirked a brow, and an amused expression came over your face. “You mean you don’t remember me?”

I furrowed my brow, but I tried not to let my confidence be shaken. “I think I would remember meeting someone as beautiful as you.”

You pressed a hand to your heart in mock offense. “I have to say, my pride is wounded. Billionaire playboy Bruce Wayne doesn’t know who I am.”

“Why don’t you tell me where I’d know you from then?” I wrapped my arms around your waist and swayed to the rhythm.

You pursed your lips. “No, I think I like the air of mystery I got going for me.” You draped your arms over my shoulders. “You’ll just have to figure it out on your own.”

“Can I at least know your name?”

You smiled. “(Y/N) (Y/L/N). Ring any bells?”

I shook my head and noticed your empty hands. “Can I buy you a drink, (Y/N) (Y/L/N)?” I liked the way your name rolled off my tongue. It suited you very well.

“No, thanks. Don’t drink.”

I raised my brows. “You don’t drink? What are you doing here then?”

You shrugged. “Maybe I just came here to dance,” you wrapped your fingers around the lapels of my blazer and brought my face down so it was barely an inch from yours, “or maybe I came here to meet someone.”

My cock twitched in my pants at having you this close to me. “I think you just met him.”

My eyes flitted over your face, from your cherry lips pulled apart to reveal pearly, white teeth to the red blush blossoming across your cheeks from the humid air in the club. I leaned forward, wondering what your lips would feel like against mine and how you would taste. Maybe it was too early to go in for a kiss, but something about you made me not care.

At the last second, you pulled away. “You keep forgetting; we’ve met before.” You laughed, airy and light. “How about that tour you promised me?”

Your hand ran down my arm until your palm slid into mine. You intertwined our fingers, and yours fit perfectly in the spaces between mine. Your skin was soft and smooth, and you had a fresh manicure. French tip; classy. Not like the girls who picked flashy, neon colors. You were polished, sophisticated, sensible.

My lips curled into a lopsided smirk. “Right this way, gorgeous.”

My grip on your hand tightened as I made my way across the cramped dance floor, dragging you behind me. If it had been anyone else, the crowd would’ve given us dirty looks as we pushed our way through, but the club was full of regulars tonight, and everyone who came here often knew who I was. Hell, I spent most nights here myself. The mass of surging bodies parted like the red sea, creating a path to the crush velvet booths at the side of the dance floor. Heavy, beaded curtains hung down in front of them, concealing the curved booths and reflecting the flashing lights, though some of them were pulled back so the occupants had a view of the dance floor.

“These are reserved for my high paying guests when they want a break from dancing.” I purposely led you away from the booth Tommy and Grace were at. I didn’t need them ruining my chances with you. “Or if they need some privacy.” I winked one dark eye at you.

A giggle escaped your parted lips, and the sound was like music to my ears. The bright expression on your face faltered however when your eyes scanned over the gray curls of smoke drifting from some of the booths. There was no denying the overpowering, strong scent of cannabis in the air. “Your patrons sure do like indulging in recreational activities, don’t they?”

“Gotta keep the customers happy.” I flashed you a charismatic smile. You offered one back, but there was something fake and forced about it. I tugged on our interlaced fingers. “Come on.”

The only spot in the club more packed than the dance floor was the bar. Scantily clad girls with sweat smearing their caked on makeup leaned on the bar, pushing their tits up with their arms in a desperate attempt to gain the bartender’s attention. No doubt they already had a few glasses in them, for they were teetering on their high heels. The boys seemed to be there more for the girls than the drinks themselves, picking out which one they would try to woo and seduce next. I held your hand tighter and shot death glares at any boy who even glanced in your direction. I wouldn’t hesitate to kick out anyone who made a move on you.

“Next stop is the bar.” I gestured to the multicolor lights shining down on the bottles of alcohol lined up on the shelves behind the bartender. “Which, by the way, my offer for a drink still stands.”

You chuckled. “Really, I’m okay, Bruce.”

“Suit yourself.” I pulled you through the crowd surrounding the bar until we made our way to the front. I leaned one elbow on the bar and raised my hand to catch the bartender’s attention.

He glanced in my direction, and his countenance shifted as realization set in. He immediately set down the cocktail shaker he was holding and rushed over to me. “What can I get for you, Mr. Wayne?” he asked with a polite smile.

“Two martinis, please.” I held up two fingers to emphasize the order.

“I’ll be back in a second, Mr. Wayne.” He nodded and scurried off to begin making the cocktails.

You playfully swatted my arm. “I told you I didn’t drink!”

I turned around to face you so my back was to the bar. “If you’re worried about the cost, you shouldn’t be. I get as many free drinks as I want. I am the owner, after all.”

“That’s quite the business model.” You crossed your arms over your chest, and my gaze slipped down your body just a second to appreciate the swell of your breasts before snapping back up to your miffed expression. “And it’s not that. I’m underage, and frankly, so are you.”

I scoffed. “Don’t worry about getting in trouble. I make sure the GCPD overlooks what goes on at this establishment.” You drew your brows together at my statement, and I knew I had to say something else before I completely lost your interest. “Besides, I bet you’d like a martini. You should try it.”

Your visage shifted, and you took a step closer to me. “Why’s that?”

“You seem like a martini girl to me.” I tilted my head to the side as I allowed my gaze to comb over you again freely. “Classic, put together, straight to the point, but still likes to have a bit of fun.”

You quirked a brow. “I bet you think you’re really good at reading people, huh?”

I crossed one ankle over the other. I didn’t miss the skepticism in your tone, but chose to ignore it. “It’s a skill that comes in handy, especially as a club owner.”

My attention was drawn from you as I heard glass clink against the bar behind me. I looked over my shoulder to see the bartender setting two martinis down in front of me. The clear liquid sloshed from the hurried manner in which he put them down, nearly spilling over the rim. “Here you go, Mr. Wayne.”

“Thank you.” I flashed him a smile and grabbed the two glasses by the stems, the green olives bobbing up and down like buoys at sea in the process.

“You’re welcome, Mr. Wayne.” He gave another firm nod before scampering off to cater to the other agitated customers.

I whirled around to face you again and watched your eyes follow the bartender as he left. “Mr. Wayne,” you repeated in a mocking tone. “I’m surprised you even said thank you.”

“Hey, I still have my manners.” I held a glass out to you. “Now, take a sip for me.”

You eyed the glass in my hand suspiciously. After a moment of hesitation, you took it from me, your fingers brushing against mine as you did so. “Why don’t you get on with the tour?”

I grabbed your hand again, and it was warm compared to mine. Skin to skin contact with you sent shivers down my spine each time, and I could only imagine what it would be like when I fucked you later tonight. I started to haul you away, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw you place your martini back down on the bar. I stifled my discontent until we were midway across the dance floor. I stopped suddenly, causing your chest to nearly crash into my back, and spun on my heel to face you.

“I saw that, you know.” I gestured to the martini in my hand and the lack of one in yours.

Your eyes widened slightly before a teasing smile toyed at the corners of your lips. “All well. I guess someone else will just have to enjoy a free drink courtesy of club owner Bruce Wayne.”

If it was anyone else, I would’ve immediately ditched them for directly disrespecting me, but the longer I stared at the taunting look on your face, the more my displeasure simmered and eventually faded away. “I guess so.” I took a step backwards. “This way.”

I led you to a winding staircase stemming off of the dance floor at the back of the club. We ascended the stairs, squeezing by couples embracing each other and shoving their tongues down each other’s throats. The railing dug into their lowers backs, and they were so enthralled with each other that they didn’t notice how far they leaned back, threatening to fall over the side and land in the crowd below. We reached the second level which had a perfect bird’s eye view of the wriggling bodies bathed in saturated light on the dance floor. From this height, they looked like puppets on strings being forced to dance and drink and smoke until they died.

I took you past the overstuffed, tufted sofas to a clear, glass door at the end of the hall. My fingers wrapped around the metal handle, and I pulled it open. I let go of your hand and stepped to the side, allowing you to pass through. I bowed slightly and gestured through the doorway to you with a smile on my lips. “After you, gorgeous.”

You curtsied mockingly. “Thank you, Mr. Wayne.” My nerve endings felt like they were set on fire at hearing you call me the title, even if it was jokingly. That definitely gave me ideas for tonight...

I snuck a glimpse of your ass as you passed me and was not disappointed by what I saw. Just before I followed you outside, I set my untouched martini down on a nearby side table. I had enough in me already.

I stepped out onto the rooftop patio and let the door fall closed behind me. I inhaled deeply, fresh air filling my lungs, though the summer heat made it just as hot outside as it was inside the club. Even so, it was still a beautiful, summer night. The sky was a pretty shade of indigo, accentuating the neon lights of the towering skyscrapers. The high tempo music blasting from the DJ booth downstairs was slightly muffled now, but I presumed it could be heard loud and clear even blocks away. There were a few other couples outside with us lounging around the fire pit or chatting with drinks in hand, but they hardly paid us any attention, too engaged in whatever meaningless conversation they were involved in.

Your heels clicked against the concrete as you headed straight for the edge of the rooftop, I not too far behind you. You pressed your palms flat against the ledge and leaned over, staring down at the cars on the street and pedestrians on the sidewalk several floors below us. The ever-present sounds of sirens and car horns could be heard in the distance. “Nice view,” you mused.

I stopped just a step behind you. “So, do you like it?”

You turned around and leaned your back against the ledge. “Like what?” you asked, confusion written all over your features.

“The club.” I shoved my hands in the pockets of my jeans.

You looked up, and the strings of warm yellow lights hanging above our heads reflected in your eyes. “I do.” Your gaze drifted back down to me, and your eyes locked with mine. “Do you?”

My thick brows furrowed slightly. I was sort of perplexed by the question, but I gave a nonchalant shrug of the shoulders. “It’s worth the trouble. I make a hell of an income off of this place.”

You scoffed. “Not that you need it, being the owner of Wayne Enterprises and all.”

“Well, I’m not really involved with Wayne Enterprises.” I rubbed the back of my neck.

That caught your attention. “Really?” You cocked your head to the side. “Why not?”

I rested one hand against the ledge and shifted my weight to rest on one foot. “It wasn’t really my thing.”

“It was your parents’ thing.”

My expression suddenly darkened at your words, and I stood up straight. “I’m not my parents.” My tone was grave and serious, a warning.

A heavy silence settled over us, and you avoided my gaze. You rubbed your arm awkwardly and gave me a sheepish smile. “It’s getting late.”

_Shit._ I didn’t mean to scare you off. “Wait, there’s one more thing I want to show you.”

Your eyes lit up with naive curiosity. “What?”

I stepped closer to you, closing the distance between us. “The exit.” I raised a hand to gently caress your cheek. Your skin was warm and soft under my fingers. “How about we get out of here, go back to my place?” The corners of my lips lifted into a suggestive smirk.

You laughed slightly, like I had said some sort of joke. “You don’t know me.” You backed out of my grasp, my hand slipping from your face, and I silently mourned the loss of contact. “We barely talked.”

“Well, according to you, I do know you. You just won’t tell me how,” I taunted, “and I’ve been talking to you all night.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. “I think I should go.” Your gaze shifted over my shoulder to the glass door behind me.

“Can I at least have your number?” I moved so I was blocking your escape.

“I don’t have my phone on me.” I searched your face for some kind of giveaway that you were lying, but I found none.

“Then I’ll give you mine.” I tried to mask the desperation and frustration seeping into my voice.

“We both know I won’t call,” you stated frankly.

“Then how am I supposed to see you again?” My lips twisted into a deep set frown.

“Maybe you won’t. Air of mystery, remember?” You strutted past me, your shoulder knocking into mine as you did so. “But you know my name. If you want to find me, you will.”

I spun around, growing more frantic as you drew closer to the door. “(Y/N)?”

You skidded to a halt at the sound of my voice. You slowly turned around and looked at me expectantly with your hands on your hips. “Yes, Bruce?”

I swallowed roughly. “If you really did like it here, don’t hesitate to come back.”

You took your plump, bottom lip between your teeth, deep in thought. “We’ll see.” It wasn’t a promise, just an acknowledgement. “Goodbye, Bruce.”

I regained enough confidence to give you one of my signature smirks. “Bye, gorgeous.”

That made you smile, and you spun back around. I appreciated, possibly for the last time, the sway of your hips and the way you crossed one leg in front of the other when you walked towards the glass door. The music from the club became more coherent for a second as you pulled it open, and then you practically vanished in a puff of smoke as you stepped inside, the door slamming shut with an audible click behind you.

Disappointment and exasperation settled in my gut when I no longer had you in my sights. Sure, I loved a good game of cat and mouse, and flirting with you had been fun, but in the end, there was no payoff for my efforts. I clenched my fists, my blunt nails digging into my palms, and my jaw ticked in annoyance. It felt like every hair on my body bristled, and I could feel my face turning red with anger.

Not long after you were gone, Tommy and Grace burst through the door. They spotted me across the patio and made their way over to me, Grace tripping in her high heels. From the frazzled looks on their faces, they had been searching for me for a while, and Tommy had my discarded martini in his hand because of course he did.

Grace beat Tommy to me. “Hey, where have you been? I came back with your drink like thirty minutes ago, and you had totally disappeared!” Her eyes flashed with jealousy. “Who was that girl we saw you talking to?”

“Yeah, does she have something to do with why you went missing on us?” Tommy caught up to us, panting slightly. “I don’t blame you, man. She was so hot. A complete smoke show.”

Grace shot him a look. “She was all right.” She tried to sound unimpressed, but there was no mistaking the envy in her voice. She twirled a strand of dark brown hair around her finger. “Kind of plain-faced, don’t you think?”

My hawklike gaze switched back and forth between them. I didn’t like the way either of them were talking about you. I needed to put a stop to it. “Shut up, both of you,” I snapped in a tone that threatened not to be trifled with.

Both of their eyes widened, but Tommy laughed it off. “All right, Bruce. We won’t pry.” He ran a hand through his shaggy, chestnut brown hair. “But why’d you let her go, though?”

“I didn’t.” I settled my gaze behind both of them at the glass door, almost like I could still see you the moment before you walked out. A red glow emanated from inside the club. They had turned the lights red again.

Tommy noticed my stare and looked over his shoulder at what I was so transfixed by. “Goddamn it! How many fucking times do you have to tell them no red?” He huffed. “Whoever isn’t fucking listening to you is about to get an earful.”

“No, Tommy.” I clapped a hand down on his shoulder before he could go anywhere. “It’s all right.” I tilted my head to the side. “I don’t mind.”

I knew I had to have you the moment I saw you, and one thing about me: I always get what I want.


	2. Something Rotten

Usually when I woke up, I rarely had any clear memories of the night before. I could remember going to the Towers, downing drink after drink, dancing under bright lights, and then waking up in my bed. There was a start and an end, but everything in between was hazy and blurred together, like a movie on fast forward.

But when I woke up this morning, I could remember every last detail of my interaction with you.

In fact, my imagination was running rampant all night because of you. Normally, what little hours of sleep I got a night were dreamless, and when I did dream, my mind was plagued with nightmares. But last night, my dreams were haunted by the sweet scent of your perfume and the feel of your soft, warm skin against mine. Sometimes, it was snippets of the conversation we had in the club, and other times, it was you laying bare on my bed beneath me, your legs spread and your skin flushed and shiny from sweat. Your hair fanned out around your head like a halo, and you stared straight up at me as breathy moans escaped from your parted, scarlet-painted lips. I guessed it had been pretty convincing, because my black, silk boxers were stained with cum when I woke up. Shame; they had been my favorite pair.

Another strange thing I noticed when I woke up: I was alone. I had collapsed onto my made bed last night with all my clothes on. I couldn’t remember the last time I had returned from the club on my own. I usually always took a girl home with me, whether I was particularly interested in her or not. Even if I had to chase her away in the morning, it beat trying to fall asleep alone only for the night terrors to come, tossing and turning as fearsome shadows terrorized my thoughts and jolting awake, dripping with sweat and my throat hoarse from screaming.

Alfred was out all day running errands so he couldn’t lecture me, and since I woke up in the afternoon, it wasn’t long before Tommy’s limousine pulled up in front of Wayne Manor. I lazily dressed in something similar to what I was wearing last night - blazer, tank, jeans, and dress shoes - and climbed into the back. I crawled past some girls I didn’t know and fell into a seat between Tommy and Grace.

“There he is!” Tommy clapped a hand on my shoulder and flashed me his bleached white teeth.

“Late as usual,” Grace hissed with a roll of her brown eyes.

“I’m surprised you were able to get out of bed at all today,” he teased me. “You were pretty messed up last night.”

“When am I not?” I laughed.

“Well, I’m glad you’re here.” Grace looped her arm through mine and snuggled up to my side. “I don’t think I could handle being around these idiots without you.”

I suppressed any sarcastic remarks that threatened to slip out and gave her a forced smile instead. She liked to think she was better than the rest of them but indulged in all the same bad behaviors. She rested her head on my shoulder, and I looked over at Tommy. His gaze shifted from Grace up to me, and he quirked an eyebrow. I merely shrugged my shoulder not occupied by Grace’s head in response.

The limousine started with a jerk and teared out of the long driveway leading to the manor. Pregame shots, as Tommy liked to call them, were passed around, and by the time we pulled up in front of the club, some of the girls were already tipsy. We piled out onto the sidewalk, smoke and the smell of cannabis wafting out of the limo behind us, and strutted past the long line of people waiting to get into the club. Most of them recognized me and tried to get my attention by frantically waving their hands in the air or hollering at me, but I ignored them. The bouncer gave me a firm nod and lifted the rope sealing off the entrance, allowing us to pass through.

The lights were a highly saturated magenta when we walked in. It was the same, usual environment: deafening music that made it impossible to hear one another without shouting, overwhelming heat that hit you like a wave and made it hard to breathe, the smell of perspiration and alcohol and cheap perfume mingling in the air. I could see how someone could despise it. I would have if I didn’t depend on it the way Grace depended on her mother’s Xanax prescription and Tommy depended on his bags of fine, white powder.

We made a beeline towards the booth I always had reserved for me. We sat down, Tommy’s arms slung around two of the girls tagging along with us, and not even a second later, two bartenders came over to us bearing drinks. Fruity cocktails for the girls, straight whiskey for Tommy, a vodka soda for Grace, and of course, a martini for me. Some of the girls muttered thank yous as the bartenders walked away, and I stood up, drawing the beaded curtains back so I could see out onto the dance floor. My mind couldn’t help but turn onto thoughts of you and whether or not you would heed my advice to come back.

“Hey, Bruce.” My head snapped behind me to see Tommy addressing me. “The girls want to dance.”

I looked down to see several empty glasses on the table in front of the group of girls. They were drinking fast, much to Tommy’s pleasure, I was sure. “Let’s go, then.” I gestured with a tilt of my head in the direction of the dance floor.

With my permission, the girls rose from the booth and headed towards the dance floor, Tommy in the middle of them. Grace got up and grabbed my hand, dragging me along with them. We merged with the crowd until I couldn’t tell the girls in our group apart from the regular clubbers. They all had forgettable faces, but not you. I could still remember the way the lights hit your features and every single freckle and mole dotting your skin.

Grace draped her arms around my neck and pulled her body close to mine until her breasts were pressed against my chest. She swayed her hips to the rhythm, her crotch rubbing against mine in the process, and stared up at me with half-lidded eyes. I absentmindedly rocked to the beat, my shoulders bumping into the people around me as I did so. I looked over her head at the crowd surrounding me, which was easy to do considering Grace was a good amount shorter than me even in heels.

A girl with bleached blonde hair and spray tanned skin approached me. She grabbed my arm hanging limp at my side and slung it around her shoulders. She batted her lashes clumpy with mascara at me as she moved seductively to the music. Grace noticed the girl and narrowed her eyes at her until they were mere slits. She started to grind up on me more aggressively like a dog trying to mark its territory.

I was too busy scouring the crowd for you to acknowledge their pointless feud. I wasn’t really interested in either one of them anyway. My mind was preoccupied with thoughts of you and seeing you again. I tried to search the sea of inebriated clubbers for your face, but I could barely see beyond the immediate cluster of dancers around me since I was stuck in between Grace and Miss Fake Tits.

Finally, Grace got sick of her shenanigans. She grabbed the girl by her bony shoulders and gave her a firm shove. “Back off, will you?”

The girl stumbled back, and if it weren’t for the bodies behind her that she crashed into, she would’ve fallen in her platform heels. “What’s your problem?” she sneered in a high-pitched, whiny voice.

The two started to bicker back and forth, but I tuned them out. Perhaps a gentleman would’ve broken up the catfight and tried to sort things out in a calm and levelheaded manner, but I was self aware enough to know I wasn’t a gentleman. I seized the opportunity to duck out of the little cluster and put several bodies between me and them before they could realize I was gone. I let out a sigh of relief when I could no longer see their heads, but my satisfaction was short lived. I still had a girl to find.

I elbowed my way through the crowd, shimmying between gyrating clubbers and shoving past girls whooping like a clutch of hens. There were already too many faces to count, but when the lights started to strobe, it made it even harder to see if yours was among them. “(Y/N)!” I shouted over the blaring music, the vibrations shaking me to the core. “(Y/N) (Y/L/N)!” The heat was starting to get to me, and the thin material of my tank clung to my back and my dark curls stuck to my forehead.

Suddenly, a hand grabbed my shoulder, and my stomach fluttered with hope that you had heard me calling your name. But then the hand whirled me around to reveal that it belonged to Tommy. “Bruce, you vanished on us again! What are you up to?”

“I’m…” I began, but my words trailed off and melted into a frustrated groan. “I’m looking for the girl I was talking to last night. I was hoping I would see her here again.”

His dilated eyes got so large I thought they would pop out of his skull. “No way! You’re still not over her? She must really be something if you still can’t get her off your mind.”

“It’s not that, it’s just…” I bit the inside of my cheek as I thought of an excuse. “Once I set my sights on a girl, I can’t let her get away. Somehow, this one slipped through my fingers.”

“Right.” He winked one bloodshot eye at me. “It has nothing to do with how bad you’ve got it for her.” Suddenly, his expression changed, and he furrowed his brows. “What did you say her name was?”

“I didn’t.” I clenched my jaw. I had been trying to keep him and Grace as far away from you as possible, but that was pretty useless now seeing that I couldn’t even find you. “Her name is (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

His jaw nearly dropped to the floor. “Wait, are you serious? (Y/N) (Y/L/N)?” he repeated.

I looked at him quizzically. “Yeah, that’s her name.”

His eyes twinkled with mischief, and a chuckle fell from his lips. “Bruce, she went to school with us!”

I raised my brows. “Really?” My eyes lit up with renewed hope. “Was she in our grade?”

“Yeah, but I can’t blame you for not remembering her. She was pretty quiet back then.” His lips curled into a smirk and he elbowed me in the side. “Who knew she would turn into such a fox, right?”

I would’ve chewed him out if I wasn’t so relieved. If Tommy knew you, that means other people had to know you too. Maybe I could start asking around to see if anyone knew where to find you. “Do you know where she lives? Anywhere she visits often?”

Tommy pursed his lips, and after a second, shook his head. “No, man, sorry. I don’t really know what she’s up to these days.”

I cursed under my breath. “Did you need something, Tommy?” I asked, the exasperation evident in my voice.

His face went blank before his eyes flickered with realization. “Oh, right. Some of the girls wanted to leave early, and I just wanted to make sure you could get a ride home.”

I shoved my hands in the pockets of my jeans. “Yeah, I’m fine. I’ll just call my town car.”

“Are you sure? You could come with us.” He leaned in close so only I could hear. “There’s enough girls for the both of us. I don’t mind sharing.”

Suddenly, Tommy was yanked back. Two girls appeared at his side, tugging on his arms. “Come on, Tommy! What’s taking so long?” one of them said, slurring her words. I could tell by their droopy eyes and the way they wavered on their feet that they were completely wasted. No doubt they had enough alcohol in their systems to let Tommy do whatever he wanted to them.

I stared at them with disgust. “That’s all right. You guys have fun without me.”

He shrugged. “Your loss.” He snaked his arms around the two girls. “Come on, ladies. Let’s go.”

He led them towards the exit and melded in with the crowd. I got fed up with all the noise and the heat and retreated back to the booth, desperate for an escape. When I got there, the curtains were down again. I parted them with my hands to reveal Grace on the other side.

“There you are, Bruce.” She was laying sideways on the booth with her head propped up by her hand. “I was wondering where you went off to. I thought I would wait here until you came back.”

Shit. Now, part of me was regretting not leaving with Tommy when I had the chance. At least they wouldn’t notice if I snuck away. “Sorry. I stepped outside for some fresh air.”

“That’s all right.” She swung her legs over so she was sitting upright. “Why don’t you sit down?” She patted the seat next to her, her intentions written all over her face.

“Actually, I think I’m gonna go get a drink.” I started to turn away.

“I got one for you right here.” She picked up a martini off of the glass table and held it out to me.

I stared down at the green olive bobbing up and down in the clear liquid with disdain and contempt for stealing my way out. “Oh. Thanks.” I faked a smile. “That was very considerate of you.”

She smiled proudly up at me. “Anything for you, Bruce.” She patted the seat next to her again excitedly. “Sit, I insist.”

I frowned. I didn’t like being told what to do, but I hated looking like a buzzkill more. I snatched the martini out of her hands and sunk into the booth beside her. If I had to talk to her, at least I could get drunk while I was doing it. Maybe even gather some more information on you.

“Grace, can I ask you a weird question?” I began tentatively.

Her round, doe eyes widened slightly. “Yeah, of course.”

I took a sip from the glass in my hand, the sting as the gin slid down my throat followed by a warm sensation pleasing to me. “Do you remember (Y/N) (Y/L/N)?”

She tilted her head to the side and took her bottom lip between her teeth. “The name sounds familiar. Maybe she went to Anders Prep with us?” She squinted at me. “Why?”

My mouth gaped open and closed like a fish out of water for a moment before an excuse popped into my head. “Apparently she’s one of Wayne Enterprises’ newest partners. Alfred was nagging me about getting to know her earlier.” I tried to keep my tone as casual and nonchalant as possible. “Do you know anything about her? Maybe like where she lives?”

She started to shake her head, but then her already large eyes grew to the size of saucers, if that was even possible. “Wait, she was that girl you were talking to last night, wasn’t she?” Her forehead creased with worry as the question I had asked set in. “Are you looking for her?”

I blinked rapidly and stuck my tongue in my cheek. “She lost an earring last night, and I found it. I was trying to give it back to her.” The lie came surprisingly easy to me.

However, it wasn’t enough to get rid of her suspicious gaze. “I’d be happy to return it for you.”

I dismissed her with a wave of my hand. “That’s all right.” I took a long sip of my martini. “Maybe I won’t worry about it.”

The loud music blasting from the DJ booth filled the lapse in our conversation, and I avoided the skeptical looks she was giving me. “I don’t know where she lives,” she answered after a while, “but I do remember she was kind of a nerd. She kept to herself, didn’t really have any friends. I saw her eating lunch in the library by herself one time.” She stuck her nose in the air. “She was sort of weird, and I guess now she’s a sleaze.”

I clenched my jaw, and my knuckles turned white from gripping the stem of my martini glass so hard. I resisted the urge to throw the contents of my drink on her. “Good to know.” I loosened my hold before I could crush the glass with my hand. “I definitely won’t worry about it now.”

A pleasant smile came over her features. “Good.” She leaned forward until her face was inches from mine and ran her hand down my chest. “I don’t know what I would do if you left me to chase some random girl.”

_Left you? We’re not even together!_ I caught her hand with mine at my hip before it could move any lower. “Tommy took the girls back to his place.”

She twisted her wrist in my grasp so she could interlace her fingers with mine. “Finally, now I have you all to myself.”

I gulped the rest of my martini. “Maybe we should leave too.”

She draped her leg across my lap. “Your place or mine?” She pressed her lips to my cheek.

“How about neither?” I put a hand on her shoulder in case I needed to push her away.

“Good thinking.” She slid into my lap. “Why bother going anywhere when we can do whatever we want right here?”

She crashed her lips against mine. My whole body tensed at first, but I forced myself to relax and enjoy the way her lips moved against mine. At least she would be a good distraction, maybe even make me forget all about you and what happened last night. I mean, according to you, I did it once before. Why not do it again?

My eyes fluttered closed, and I ran my tongue along her bottom lip. She parted her lips, and I slipped my tongue into her mouth, quickly gaining dominance. I could taste the vodka soda she had been drinking. She moaned and shifted so she was straddling my hips. Her hands cupped my face and pulled me closer to her. She started rolling her hips into mine, and my hands drifted down to her hips. She buried her fingers in my hair and nipped at my bottom lip.

I tried to lose myself in her and the way she was kissing me, but everything just felt so wrong. Her lips moved clumsily and sloppy against mine. The vodka on her tongue tasted bitter and sour. She tugged on my dark locks too harshly, and she dry humped me like a dog in heat. Nothing about her turned me on in the slightest, but you? You would know what to do with those plump, cherry lips of yours, and you wouldn’t even have to touch me to get me hard. Whether I liked it or not, I couldn’t get you off my mind, and I had to do something about it rather than waste my time on girls obviously inferior to you.

I separated from her and shoved her off of me. She fell back onto her elbows next to me and stared up at me. Her red, swollen lips were parted in shock, and drops of sweat ran down her face, leaving streaks through her orange-tinted foundation. “What’s wrong with you?” she asked, her voice laced with venom and embarrassment.

My hands curled into fists at my side, my nails digging into my palms. “It’s not what’s wrong with me,” I seethed through gritted teeth. “It’s what’s wrong with you.”

I shot up abruptly, and her brown eyes flashed with fear. Her skin turned a few shades paler, and she scooted away from me on the booth almost like she was scared to move under my intense gaze. Seeing the frightened expression on her face was the closest she had gotten to making me excited all night.

I stormed off before I could do anything I would regret.


	3. The Rapture Ball

Whatever effect you had had on my dreams wore off, because the shadows came for me again. They crept into the corners of my mind and feasted on all my insecurities and worries. I was paralyzed with fear, helpless as they descended and cloaked me in darkness. I could hear the pained groans as his body decayed into ash and dust, see the curved edge of a silver blade glinting in the dim light of candles lining the stone walls.

I woke up alone again, the mattress cold and empty beside me. This time, I had had the decency to shed my blazer and slip off my shoes before I had passed out. I blinked rapidly, the rays of afternoon sunshine streaming through my windows blinding me, and clutched my throbbing head. I slowly sat up, grumbling as I did so, and caught a glimpse of my sorrowful appearance in the mirror hanging above my dresser.

Red veins protruded from the whites of my dark eyes. The skin underneath them was a deep violet and formed dark, shiny circles. My complexion was pallid and ghostly white, and my black tank stuck to my torso from the thin layer of sweat coating my body. My jet-black curls were mussed and stuck out in all directions like I had been tossing and turning all night. Knowing me, I probably had.

I swung my legs over the side of my bed and stood on shaky legs. My whole body felt sore all over, like I was covered in invisible bruises. I trudged out of my bedroom and down the hall slowly like I was moving through molasses. My head was pounding, and every little ray of light that shined in my eyes or creak of the wooden floorboards beneath my feet irritated the dull ache in my brain even more. I felt like a herd of elephants had taken turns smashing my skull to bits with their giant, heavy feet.

When I entered the kitchen, Alfred was standing at the stove. _Shit._ Just as I was about to back out and retreat to my bedroom, he glanced over his shoulder and spotted me. “Oh. Good morning, Master Bruce.” He looked down at the bulky watch on his wrist. “Or should I say good afternoon.”

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep in any snide remarks that wanted to slip out. “I’m hungry,” I said, my voice still groggy with sleep.

“It’s too bad you didn’t wake up earlier when I was making lunch.” He turned the dial on the gas burning stove, and a low, blue flame flickered to life.

I stumbled over to the island in the middle of the kitchen and slid onto a stool. “Why don’t you do your job and make me something?”

He looked back at me, the wrinkles creasing his skin only accentuating the exhausted expression on his face. “What would you like?”

I massaged my temples. “I don’t care.”

The corners of his lips tugged upwards into a fake smile. “Then you can have tea with me.” He turned on the faucet and held a stainless steel kettle under the stream of water. I tried to stifle a groan and rolled my eyes when his back was turned. “Wayne Enterprises called. They requested your presence at an upcoming board member meeting.”

“Tell them to have it without me.” I dismissed his statement with a wave of my hand.

He turned off the faucet. “I think it would be a good idea if you took a more active role in the company your family owns, Master Bruce.” He placed the kettle on the stove over the flame.

“And if I remember correctly, you’re my butler and not my life coach, Alfred,” I snapped back. “I don’t need you shoving your pieces of advice down my throat.”

He froze for a second, his shoulders visibly tensing. “All right, Master Bruce.” I didn’t miss the sharp edge to his tone.

An uncomfortable silence settled over us, the tension so thick you could cut it with a knife. I tapped my fingers against the granite counter top and bounced my leg up and down impatiently. He opened a cabinet and rummaged through the shelves. He grabbed two ceramic mugs, and I winced as he set them down on the counter, the clang sending a wave of pain rolling through me.

My mind was a muddled mess, and I felt like I had to dig through dirt and grime to come up with a coherent thought. The gears in my head were spinning as I remembered I had found out new information about you last night. You had gone to Anders Preparatory Academy with me, Tommy, and Grace, which would explain where I had met you, but I still had no recollection of you there. At least it was a jumping off point, but I had to find you if I wanted to know more.

I looked up at Alfred, and my brain went into overdrive. Could he have any knowledge about you? I knew he would have some questions if I started asking about you, but at this point, I was too desperate to care. “Alfred, do you know anything about a girl named (Y/N) (Y/L/N)?”

He suddenly perked up. “Why, Master Bruce?”

“Just answer the question, Alfred,” I hissed through gritted teeth.

The kettle made a high-pitched, whiny sound as a billow of white steam piped out of its spout. He clicked off the stove. “Her family was an old friend of your parents.” He put tea bags in the mugs. “I believe she attended Anders Prep with you for a short period of time.”

I sat up straight on the stool. “How close were my parents to her family?”

He grabbed the kettle and tipped it, pouring hot water into the two mugs. “Well, they attended all of the same events and fundraisers.” He picked up a mug and set it down in front of me. “There you go, Master Bruce.”

I wrapped my hands around it, the heat emanating from the mug warming my palms. “Do you know where I would be able to find her?”

He leaned back against the counter, mug in hand. “Well, she’d most likely be at the charity ball for the Falcone Home and School for Orphans this weekend.”

I furrowed my thick brows. “Why would she be there?”

“Because she donated over five million dollars to them.”

My jaw dropped. So you were a humanitarian. That didn’t exactly blend well with the club kid image you had given off the other night. You were starting to make me question more and more your intentions for coming into my club. “Where’d she get her money from?”

“From her family, of course.” He took a sip from his mug. “They own one of the largest corporations in Gotham. They used to collaborate with Wayne Enterprises back when your parents were alive.”

I crossed my arms and leaned my elbows on the island. “Does she own the company now?”

He shook his head. “I think she acts as the chairman for the fundraising department.” He looked down at the untouched mug in my hands. “Aren’t you going to drink, Master Bruce?”

I lowered my gaze to the mug. I could see my reflection in the surface of the hot, brown liquid, and tendrils of steam drifted into the air. “Nah, I’m not thirsty anymore.” I pushed the mug away, the tea nearly sloshing over the rim.

He sighed, the corners of his lips twisting into a deep set frown. “I don’t know what you want with Miss (Y/L/N), Master Bruce, but she’s a good person. You could learn a thing or two from her.”

I narrowed my eyes at him and let his underhanded comment roll off my back. “Right.” I stood up, the legs of the stool scraping against the wooden floor as I did so. “I’m going back to sleep. Don’t bother me.”

“Yes, Master Bruce.” He gave me a curt bow.

I departed from the room, and a few days later, I found myself standing in the ballroom of the Falcone Mansion dressed in an uncomfortable tuxedo. The black bowtie around my neck felt like it was strangling me, and I felt confined in the tight, restraining pants. I was starting to sweat underneath the warm yellow light coming from the chandelier hanging above, and even though there was no one within a four foot radius of me, I still felt impossibly hot. I was more out of place here than I ever was in the Towers. The things I did for you.

My shiny, dress shoes clicked as I walked across the polished, wood floors. Rich, highfalutin aristocrats holding flutes of champagne and speaking with nasal voices turned their heads and looked down their upturned noses at me as I passed them, but I had expected to get that reaction when I came here. No doubt word of my late night activities had spread to the upper classes of Gotham. I guess it was probably a shock to see me back here, walking amongst the people who used to be friends with my parents and laugh with them at benefits much like this.

But I only had one reason for coming here tonight, and that was to find you. About an hour into the event, I finally spotted you climbing the grand, marble staircase leading towards the second floor of the ballroom. I immediately rushed towards you, taking in your appearance. You were wearing a knee-length dress and low heels. Your hair was slicked back into an elegant updo, and sparkling diamonds that probably cost more than most people’s mortgages hung from your ears and laid flat against your collarbone. You looked nothing like the girl I had met at the club a couple of nights ago, and I wouldn’t have even recognized you if your face hadn’t been burned into my memory.

You stopped on the landing, and I paused at the bottom of the staircase, staring up at you. From here, I could admire the outline of your form and the way the warm glow perfectly highlighted your features. My feet pounded against the marble as I dashed up the stairs. I couldn’t help the blissful smile that came over my face as I snuck up behind you as I had the night that we met.

“Found you, gorgeous.”

You whirled around at the sound of my voice and stared at me with wide eyes. When you realized who I was, your body relaxed, and a small smile graced your features. “Bruce,” you breathed out, crossing your arms over your chest, “I’m guessing this means you remember how you know me now?”

“Not exactly.” I stepped closer to you, my lips curling into a lopsided smirk. “I know that you went to Anders Prep with me for a while.”

“That’s true,” you pursed your lips and gave a short nod of your head, “but that’s not all. Do you remember anything that happened while you were there? Anything involving us?”

I furrowed my thick brows and bit the inside of my cheek. I still had no memories of you there, let alone of us together. “No, but I’ll remember eventually, gorgeous. You’re a very hard face to forget.”

You laughed slightly, the sound reverberating off of the vaulted walls. “It would seem the opposite.”

“Why aren’t you down there with the rest of the guests?” I gestured to the people milling about below us.

You quirked a brow. “Why aren’t you?”

“I was searching for someone,” I was close enough to you now that I only had to lean down a little to kiss you, “but it seems that I found her.”

Your lips parted slightly as you stared at me, and I could feel the comforting warmth radiating from your body. “I needed a break.” You took a step back, and my lips twitched into a small frown. “It can get pretty overwhelming down there.”

“Why bother coming then?” I asked with a slight chuckle.

“Because I’m the one who has to convince people why they should give a shit about the less fortunate.”

I nodded slowly. “You gave a lot of money to the Falcone Home and School for Orphans.” I squinted my dark eyes at you. “Why?”

You turned your head to look down at the ballroom. The sounds of laughter and music filled the air. “This particular cause means a lot to me.” Your eyes glistened, the dim light casting shadows across your face. “I’m an orphan.”

I raised my brows. I wasn’t expecting that. “Me too, but I’m sure you already knew that.” I laughed it off and looked down at my shoes. “May I ask what happened to your parents?”

“They died of natural causes.” You took your bottom lip between your teeth.

I shoved my hands in the pockets of my pants as a silence settled over us. I broke it when I cleared my throat. “Why don’t we rejoin the party?” I suggested. “Maybe a glass of champagne?”

You scoffed. “You won’t be able to get a drink here. They don’t serve minors.”

I smirked at you. “Gorgeous, I’m Bruce Wayne.” I lifted a hand and caressed your cheek. “I have ways of getting what I want.”

You stared up at me in shock. Just as I was about to close the distance between our lips, a voice came over the speakers. “Hello, everyone. Thanks for coming out here tonight.”

We snapped our heads to see Sofia Falcone standing on the small stage across the ballroom from us. She was wearing a designer dress, and her long, black hair was sleek and shiny. She had a small smile on her scarlet lips and held a microphone in her polished hands. Even from all the way across the room, her lilted voice was still booming.

“I really appreciate everything all of you have done for the Falcone Home and School for Orphans, especially considering what happened at the fundraising dinner not too long ago…” she trailed off, but quickly regained her composure. “Anyway, I know you came here to enjoy yourselves, so here tonight to play for you is the Gotham City Orchestra.”

My gaze shifted to the right of the stage where an orchestra was set up as applause rang out. The conductor tapped his baton twice on his music stand to gain the players’ attention before the orchestra struck up their instruments and began to play. The center of the ballroom was cleared, and a few couples meandered out to the middle of the dance floor. They grabbed each other and started to waltz to the tune the orchestra was playing.

My smirk widened to a grin. “May I have this dance?” I extended a hand out to you.

“I don’t know…” You gave me a sheepish smile and rubbed the back of your neck. “I’m not much of a dancer.”

I dropped my arm to my side, lifting a brow. “You seemed like one at the Towers the other night.”

“You better not let anyone hear you say things like that. Unlike you, I care about my reputation.” The corners of your lips tugged upwards into a teasing smile. “And I think you’ll agree that the type of dancing that goes on at the Towers is considerably easier.”

“And considerably more fun, too.” I sent you a wink, and I didn’t miss the blush that crept its way up your cheeks. “But let’s not waste the opportunity, shall we?” I held out my hand to you again.

This time, you slipped your palm into mine. I hadn’t realized I had missed the feeling of your smooth velvet skin against mine until I had your hand in my grasp again. I led you down the stairs and onto the dance floor. I brought you to the middle of the floor, couples twirling around us, and pulled you to face me. I raised our intertwined fingers and gently placed my free hand on your waist.

“Put your hand on my shoulder,” I instructed, and you rested your hand on my shoulder. Your touch was soft and delicate. “Now, just follow me; I’ll lead. Move to your left.” I stepped to the right, and you stared down at your feet as you copied my movements. “Then, I’ll move back, and you’ll move forward.” I stepped back at the same time you stepped forward. “Now, to the right.” We moved in tandem to my left. “And then back to where we started.” You took a step back, and we landed in the same place we began. You looked up from your feet and flashed me a bright smile. “See? Not so hard, is it?”

You shook your head, and we started dancing again. At first, we only moved in a square, but as you grew more relaxed, we started to twirl around the dance floor in a wide circle with the rest of the couples. Every now and then, I twirled you under my arm, causing you to laugh with a certain reckless abandon. You had a careless smile on your face, and it filled me with a peculiar sense of glee. It was innocent and pure, something I hadn’t felt in a while.

Everything was going smoothly until I felt your heel dig into my foot. “Ow!” I yelped and let go of you to cradle my injured foot in my hands.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” You covered your mouth with your hand and put your other one on my arm. I felt sparks ignite inside of me at the simple touch. “I told you I wasn’t much of a dancer.”

My lips twitched into a weak smile. “That’s all right.” I dropped my foot and smoothed out the fabric of my tuxedo jacket with my hands. “You were doing pretty good up until then.” I reached my hand out towards you. “Now, where were we?”

Just as the words left my lips, the music stopped. Couples parted from each other and gave the orchestra a round of polite applause. You frowned, and it made me happy to know that you had enjoyed our dance that much. I took your hand and led you off of the dance floor, doing my best not to limp from you stepping on my foot.

“Thank you for the dance,” you said and stepped away from me.

“Of course. I’m sorry to have kept you from schmoozing with high society for so long.” My tone dripped with sarcasm.

“That’s okay. I’ve donated enough for everyone here, haven’t I?” You laughed, light and airy. “It’s getting late. I should probably head home.”

I grabbed your hand before you could slip away again. “Have dinner with me tomorrow night.” I tried to sound casual and nonchalant, but in reality, I was desperate. “I can pick you up from your place around six. I’ll take you somewhere real fancy, somewhere deserving enough of your reputation,” I taunted.

You blinked. “That’s very sweet of you, Bruce, but I already have plans tomorrow.”

My heart sunk in my chest. You already had plans? What did that mean? I was hoping it was some sort of business meeting, but I couldn’t help but think you were going out with some other guy. “That’s all right.” I forced my lips up into a smile and pushed all hostility out of my tone.

“I had a really nice time with you tonight, Bruce.” You folded your hands and clasped them in front of you. “Goodbye.”

You gave me one last glance before you walked away. “Bye, gorgeous!” I called after you, disregarding the nasty looks thrown my way. “I’ll see you soon!”

A waiter passed me, and I grabbed his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks. I lifted a flute of champagne off of the silver tray he was holding. His eyes bugged out as he watched me sip the bubbly, golden liquid. “Excuse me, sir, but can I see some ID?” he asked, his voice shaky.

I gulped down a mouthful of champagne. “I’m Bruce Wayne,” I grumbled. “What more do you need?”

I couldn’t believe you had rejected me. Me, Bruce Wayne, of all people? Who did you think you were? But, I couldn’t be mad at you. I found it impossible. Whoever you were seeing tomorrow clearly had you under his spell, leaving you too blind to see that I was better than whatever joe shmoe you were spending your time with instead of me.

I have played the nice guy for too long. I’ve been smiling and sweet, polite and gracious every time you spurned me or disrespected me, but I couldn’t do it anymore. It wasn’t working. I wasn’t any closer to having you than when I started.

It was time for me to get my hands dirty.


	4. Playing Dirty

The front door let out a quiet creak as I pulled it open as slowly as possible. I stepped inside the manor, the floorboards squeaking under my weight. I turned around and gradually pushed the door closed. It finally clicked into place, and the telltale sound caused Alfred’s head to pop out of the archway leading to the living room and into the hallway.

“Master Bruce, you’re home early.” He stepped into the hall tentatively and looked at me with hope in his eyes. “How was the charity ball?”

I let out an exasperated groan. “It was fine.” I shed my tuxedo jacket and shoved it into his arms.

“Did you find Miss (Y/L/N)?” His head followed me as I trudged past him.

“Yes, I did.” I lifted a hand and massaged my temples with my long, thin fingers. My head was pounding.

“Well, how is she?” he persisted.

With my back to him, I rolled my eyes. “She’s fine,” I grumbled, my words slightly slurring together.

His gray brows furrowed, and his lips twitched into a frown. “Master Bruce, have you been drinking?”

I leaned back against the wall, my head bumping into an old, dusty painting of a vase of lilacs. “What do you think?” I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. “You said my parents worked with her family, right?”

He wrung his hands. “Well, yes, a little bit.”

“So they would have her address on file.” I toed off my dress shoes.

He cocked his head to the side. “Possibly, but they wouldn’t be allowed to give out that information.”

I gave him a pointed look. “Alfred, look who you’re talking to.”

“Right.” He folded his hands in front of him and advanced towards me. “What do you want with her address anyway, Master Bruce?”

I tugged at my bowtie before it hung loose around my neck. “I don’t believe I’m allowed to give out that information,” I mocked. I sent him an antagonizing wink before stumbling into my room.

It was easy enough getting your address. All I had to do was call reception at the Wayne Enterprises building and tell them my name. After that, I had my chauffeur drive me in a town car with tinted windows to your home. Turns out it was about five miles from mine and in the same neighborhood of sprawling estates, so the drive wasn’t long. I had the chauffeur park across the street from the wrought iron gate sealing off the property.

Your home was a manor slightly smaller than mine. It had high, gray brick walls crawling with ivy and large, white-trimmed windows. The pointed roof was built out of cobblestone, and the garden was green and well-tended to. There were several neatly trimmed shrubs and a bubbling fountain in the front lawn. It was a lot cleanlier and livelier and more cared for than Wayne Manor was, well, at least that’s how it looked from my confined position.

I sat in my town car outside of the gates for a whole week from sun up to sun down, surveying and keeping track of the daily routine at your home. Unlike my manor, yours was constantly full of life. Maids and butlers and gardeners were consistently coming in and out of the front gate, but there was no sign of you. The only clue that anyone resided there at all was a sleek, black town car that went in and out of the gates. One time, I caught a glimpse of the passenger in the backseat, and from what I could see, she looked like a rich, middle-aged woman with bleached blonde hair. She definitely seemed like the head of the household.

I got sick of sitting and waiting for you to show up, so I drove to your estate as normal, but this time I was in a UPS van rather than my usual town car. It was easy getting them to let me rent it for an hour. If you threw enough money at anything, you could get what you want. I pulled up to the front gate and rolled down my window. I leaned out of it and pressed the buzzer on the gate.

After a second, a snooty voice asked, “What’s your business?”

“I’m dropping off a package!” I yelled into the speaker.

There was a pause, and then, “Go ahead.”

The gate buzzed as it swung open, and I fell back into my seat. I stomped down on the gas, finally able to drive past the iron gates that had kept me from you for so long. I pulled around the fountain in the middle of the circular driveway and pressed down on the brake in front of the door to the manor. I undid my seatbelt and grabbed the large, brown box in the passenger seat next to me. I kicked the door open and hopped out of the van, closing it with my shoulder behind me.

I jumped up the wide, brick steps and landed on the doorstep. I looked up at the tall, arched, double doors and sucked in a deep breath. Balancing the cardboard box in one arm, I pulled my cap bearing the UPS logo down lower to shield my face. I hit the doorbell and listened to the satisfying ring reverberate throughout the inside of the large manor.

I heard muffled footsteps drawing closer and closer to the door from the inside. Then, the door opened, and the woman I had seen in the back of the town car poked her head out. “Hi! Are you (Y/N) (Y/L/N)?” I asked in a bright and cheery tone.

“No, I’m her mother.” The unnaturally wide smile on my face nearly faltered. _Your mom? But I thought you said you were an orphan?_ “May I help you?”

“I have a package for her.” I lifted the box in my arms higher. “Is she home?”

The woman’s glassy eyes raked over my uniform, and her thin lips pulled taut into a straight line. “No, she’s not.”

“Do you know when she’ll be home next then?”

“She doesn’t live here anymore,” she snapped. Rude. Your mom wasn’t very nice to innocent delivery men. “Who is the package from?”

“Uh…” I pretended to read the label I had printed out at home. “It says it’s from Gotham Children’s Hospital.”

Her expression softened slightly. “Oh, it’s probably a thank you gift. My daughter is the fundraising chairman of the (Y/L/N) Corporation. She gives a lot to charity,” she said with a condescending smile. Your mom liked to brag, didn’t she? “I can hold onto it for her.” She started to reach for it with her frail arms.

I pulled it out of her grasp. “I’m sorry, but I need her to sign for it. Do you have an address I could forward this to?” I flashed her a polite smile.

She studied me intently for a moment before relenting. “Wait right here.”

She left the door open and retreated into the mansion. Her stiletto heels clicked against the polished, wood floors as she walked down a long hall, leaving a cloud of expensive, jasmine perfume behind. She turned into a room off of the hall, and I took the time to examine the foyer. A large, winding, marble staircase led to the second floor, and a ginormous, crystal chandelier hung from the vaulted ceiling. It would be almost too easy to walk in and do whatever I wanted, but this place was of no use to me anymore.

Your mother returned with a slip of paper in hand. “Here’s where she lives now.” She held it out to me, and I took it from her. “I’m surprised they didn’t have her new address already, but knowing that girl, she probably forgot to update it. She’s always so busy giving back to the community.” She settled her hands on her hips.

“Right.” I forced one more painful smile. “Well, thanks for your help. Have a good day!”

“You too. Goodbye.” She quickly shut the door.

The smile slipped from my face the second she was concealed from view and a smirk formed in its place. Your mother was dumb, gorgeous, but for once I was thankful for someone’s stupidity. Your mother just handed me the golden ticket, and it would lead me straight to you.

The address scrawled onto the slip of paper took me to an apartment building in the center of Gotham. It wasn’t too far away from Wayne Enterprises and looked very sleek and modern. All of the walls were made of glass, which made it easy for me to locate you in the penthouse at the very top of the building. I could only imagine the rent cost an arm and a leg, but as the chairman of an internationally successful corporation, I’m sure you had more than enough plus a little extra. I wondered why you had felt the need to move out of your family’s manor. Maybe it was because you liked having a sense of independence, even if Mommy and Daddy were still the ones making your millions.

For a girl with a practically made up job, you kept a pretty busy schedule. You woke up every morning at the crack of dawn and got ready for the day. Your town car pulled up around eight in the morning, and you climbed into it wearing a designer dress or fitted pantsuit. You were always adorned with jewels worth more than most mens’ bank accounts. You started your day by grabbing a vanilla latte and a slice of coffee cake from Roosevelt’s before heading off to whatever you had scheduled for the day. During the week, it was tedious board meetings, lunches planning fundraisers, and dinners spent convincing snobby millionaires who inherited all their money to give to the less fortunate that kept you running from restaurant to cafe to conference room and back again. The weekends were reserved for benefits and galas and charity balls where you charged up your black card until the amount reached seven digits.

I had to admit, I enjoyed watching you strut around with your nose in the air and a sway in your hips. You exhibited the same confidence you had that night in the Towers, but now it had more of an authoritative air to it. I could see us now, me, the billionaire CEO of Wayne Enterprises, and you, the savvy, charitable businesswoman and future Mrs. Wayne.

I was still curious as to why you felt so indebted to give. The people around you sure didn’t. Your mother certainly didn’t seem like the giving type, considering the way she treated me and how she hardly left her luxurious estate. I wondered what had inspired you to write check after check to people in need. Or were you running from something, gorgeous?

You sashayed out of the lobby of your apartment building dressed in a checkered suit, a pair of Ray Bans shielding your eyes from the blazing, summer sun. Your town car pulled up to the curb at the same time, and you ducked into the backseat. I watched the car peel down the street and out of sight before I got out of mine. I crossed the road, narrowly dodging oncoming cars, and slipped inside the glass doors of the building.

The lobby was rather empty except for a few people and a security guard. Luckily, I fit in with the environment of the building and its posh residents in my black turtleneck and fitted pants. I walked straight past the security guard and towards the turnstiles barring the elevators from me. I took my fake apartment pass out of my pocket. It was pretty simple to make it a few days ago using all the technology Wayne Enterprises had to offer. Still, I held my breath when I scanned it, and only released it when I heard the beep and pushed through the turnstile with ease.

I shoved it back into my pocket and approached the elevators. I jabbed the up arrow button with my pointer finger, and a second later, the light above the middle elevator flickered on. A ding sounded as the metal doors slid open, and I stepped inside. The button for the penthouse lit up when I selected it, and the doors clicked into place behind me. The elevator jolted slightly when it started to ascend, but the ride quickly smoothed out as it climbed up the skyscraper.

I watched the number of floors tick higher and higher until the elevator finally came to a stop. The doors parted, and I stepped out into a small hallway leading to a single door. I glanced around, making sure no one was watching me, before I pulled out a pair of black, leather gloves. I slipped them on as I walked towards the door. I took out my lock picking kit and bent over, getting to work. After a little bit of testing and tweaking, I heard the telltale click of a lock opening. I grabbed the doorknob and twisted it, and the door gave way.

I stepped inside the penthouse, my dress shoes squeaking against the light hardwood floor, and took a deep breath. The air smelled fresh, like lemons and lilacs and laundry detergent. I kicked the door closed and locked it behind me. I glanced down at the heavy, silver, Cartier watch on my wrist. I had approximately four hours before you would come back and regather your wits in between meetings. Four hours to do whatever I wanted in your home.

Maybe my behavior was starting to border on psychotic.

The living room was open and airy with a breathtaking view of the cerulean sky and Gotham City skyline out of the wall of floor to ceiling windows. There was an L-shaped, white leather couch in the middle with a few gray pillows haphazardly thrown on it. A potted succulent and a copy of George Orwell’s _The Road to Wigan Pier_ gathered dust on a glass coffee table. A large flatscreen tv was mounted to a white wall. After digging through your DVR, I found that you didn’t really watch a lot of tv, which made sense, since you didn’t really have the time to. The only shows you had recorded were a couple of dramas, some family sitcoms, and the occasional guilty pleasure reality tv show. Titles by Howard Zinn and Upton Sinclair lined the shelves of an overcrowded bookcase, and a few Rothko paintings hung on the wall, bringing in a little bit of color to an otherwise monochromatic room.

Next was the kitchen. It was situated right beside the living room in an open concept style. The cabinets and cupboards were made out of glossy, white wood and didn’t have handles. You had to push on them before they opened. The countertops were clear and shiny from a recent cleaning, and what little dirty dishes there were had been stacked in a pile in the sink. Overall, it was extremely tidy and neat. The only thing out of place was a half-drunk glass of water sitting on top of the island. I guess you had run out of time before you could drink all of it this morning. I picked up the glass and drained the rest of its contents before putting it in the sink for you. You could thank me later.

I moved into the dining room right off of the kitchen. I knew you used it for some of your fundraising dinners and board member meetings. There was a pair of glass, double doors that led out to the patio. I could see a grill that I doubted you used, some tables and chairs, and lounge chairs surrounding a rectangular pool filled with crystal blue water. The surface perfectly reflected the sun and the clouds so it looked you like you had the sky in your patio.

I took the see-through staircase to the second floor. It led me to a small landing with two doors. I chose the one on the left, and I opened it to reveal your bedroom. However, it wasn’t decorated with personal or sentimental belongings. It looked more like a hotel room than somebody’s bedroom. I walked across the white fur rug and collapsed on the king-sized bed that was the focal point of the room. It was impossibly soft, like laying on a cloud, and I rolled around in the white duvet, messing up the articulately made bed. I closed my eyes and imagined what it would be like to fuck you on this very bed, to hear the sounds of your moans over the squeak of the springs and leave imprints of our intertwined bodies on the mattress and dampen the sheets with our sweat. My eyes snapped open. I was getting hard already, and I had to stay focused. I couldn’t attend to my needs just yet.

I got off of the bed and smoothed out the covers before heading into the attached bathroom. The walls were covered with gleaming, white tile, and the floor under my feet was made out of cold marble. The wall of windows had a large, white curtain drawn over it to keep passersby (but mostly me) from seeing in. There was a walk in shower big enough for three people to fit inside comfortably. The shower head was a metallic rectangle installed in the ceiling that let down a drizzle of water similar to rainfall. I took my time smelling your body wash and shampoo and conditioner, all of the products that made up your delicious fragrance that I had become so addicted to.

I walked over to the sink. Above the counter was a mirror that had a string of lights around that, when turned on, gave the perfect lighting I assumed to do your makeup. I bent down and rummaged through the cabinet below the sink. I found a lot of hair care items, bottles of perfume, boxes of tampons, and lotions. I saw a little green packet in middle of it all and picked it up. Birth control. From the looks of it, it had been recently used. _Good to know._ I put it back and closed the cabinet. I stood up and looked at the sink. There was nothing on the counter except for a single toothbrush. I took it out of its holder and ran my tongue over the bristles. I could still taste the minty toothpaste you had used this morning. I wondered if this is what your mouth would taste like when I finally kissed you.

I replaced the toothbrush and turned into the other door attached to your bedroom. It led me to a huge walk-in closet probably as big as most college dorms. Garments ranging from your everyday dresses and suits all the way to luxurious evening gowns hung on racks lining the perimeter of the room organized by item type and then color. There was an island in the middle that contained all of your designer purses, high heels, and priceless jewelry. A small chandelier hanging from the center of the ceiling cast white light down on the closet. I scampered over to a plain laundry basket tucked into the corner of the room. I fell to my knees and sorted through the contents until I produced a pair of black, lace panties. I buried my nose in them and breathed in your scent. My eyes closed, and a smile came over my face. I could tell they had been recently worn.

My blood ran cold when I heard footsteps coming up the stairs. I lifted my face away from your underwear and glanced down at my watch. “Shit,” I whispered under my breath. I had lost track of time.

I only had enough time to shut the door and turn off the closet light before the door to the bedroom swung open. I peaked through the slats in the door to see you walk in, wiping the sweat from your brow with the back of your hand and panting from exhaustion. You dropped your purse at the foot of your bed and threw your phone on your duvet. It bounced once on the mattress before coming to a rest.

“Why is it so hot?” you murmured to yourself. You kicked off your oxfords and shimmied out of your checkered suit jacket. Then, your fingers went to the buttons on your white, chiffon blouse. My eyes widened as I watched you undo button after button, each one that came undone revealing more of your smooth, unmarred skin. My cock twitched in my pants, and I started palming myself to ease some of the tension.

You finished unbuttoning your blouse and let it hang open. You shrugged it off and discarded it carelessly to the floor. My gaze raked over the exposed skin of your stomach to the rise and fall of your flushed chest. The swell of your breasts could barely be contained by the cups of your pushup bra. My erection was painfully restrained by the fabric of my pants, and I couldn’t take it anymore. As quietly as I could, I unzipped my pants and pulled my hardening cock out of its confines. My hand was still gripping your panties, and I wrapped them around my length as I started to stroke up and down.

You toed off your socks and walked over to the full length mirror in your room. You stood in front of it with your back to me, and I could see your reflection look over itself. You pursed your lips and pinched the skin of your stomach with your fingers. I wondered if you were self-conscious. You had no reason to be. I couldn’t understand how you could see yourself as anything but gorgeous, gorgeous.

You bent over and tugged your pants down your legs, giving me a perfect view of the curve of your ass. The region between your legs was covered by a gray thong, and my hand sped up. Something about the possibility of getting caught in the act thrilled me and only heightened my arousal. Drops of sweat ran down my face, and I bit my lip to stifle my moans so hard that I could taste blood. I imagined touching your soft, warm flesh, letting my hands trail over your curves, covering every inch of skin with my mouth. I imagined tearing that thong off of you before pressing you up against the wall and fucking you senseless until you were begging and screaming my name.

You stood up and reached for the clasp on your bra as I came. My release coated your lacy panties, and I leaned my head back. I couldn’t help the small moan that escaped my lips as euphoria washed over me. It was barely audible, but my pulse quickened as your head snapped in the direction of the closet. You drew your brows together, and the sound of blood rushing filled my ears as you slowly made your way towards me. I was stuck, glued to the spot, and my limbs were frozen. I had no clue what to do.

Just as it seemed like the end for me, your ringtone drew your attention. You stopped in your tracks, and after a second, walked over to your bed, shaking your head. You snatched your buzzing phone off of the duvet and accepted the call before holding it to your ear. “Hello?”

I tucked myself back into my pants as you listened to the speaker on the other end. “Yeah, sorry, I was in a meeting earlier. That’s why I couldn’t return your call. Yeah, I know I’ve been busy lately. I’m sorry I keep cancelling, but there’s not really anything I can do about it.”

God, whoever you were speaking to was really clingy. “Look, we’re still on for tonight, right? Dinner at seven?” I halted all my movements. This person didn’t seem like one of the rich people you cyphered money from. Who were you going to dinner with that wasn’t me?

“Yeah, okay. I’ll see you there.” You paused as the caller said something else. A laugh tumbled from your lips, a real, genuine laugh, and I narrowed my eyes. _I_ wanted to be the one to make you laugh like that! “Okay, I have to go. I have another meeting to get to. I know, I know. Bye, Brant.”

The air was sucked out of my lungs. Wait. I knew that name. Brant? You were having dinner with Brant Jones? The guy who had beaten me up along with Tommy Elliot back at Anders Prep, and then teased and taunted me relentlessly in front of Grace and Emma Hsueh? You were choosing to spend your time with that sleaze when you had me at your every beck and call?

I waited as you got dressed and grabbed your things, and only when I heard the front door slam shut did I come out of my hiding place. I stashed your soiled panties in my pocket for later use. I needed to confirm if my suspicions were true. I dashed out of your room to the other door across from it. It opened to an orderly office. This room was a lot darker than the other rooms. Thick, black curtains covered the windows, and bookshelves packed with even more books bordered the walls. In the center of it all was a grand oak desk. Neat stacks of paper took up the desk space, and a Mac laptop rested on top of a pile of manila folders.

I pushed aside the padded desk chair, sending it rolling across the room, and I combed through the assortment of files and documents on your desk. Finally, I found what I was looking for. I lifted a worn, gray, moleskin planner from off of the desk. The cover was creased and wrinkled from so much wear and tear. I pulled the elastic band keeping it closed off and flipped to the page with the ribbon page marker stuck in the spine of the planner. It was an overview of the whole month, and I went back a couple of weeks to the day after the Falcone Home and School for Orphans charity ball. Sure enough, written down in black, fountain pen was “Dinner with Brant.”

You had turned me down for some half-wit who leeched off of his trust fund? I couldn’t understand it. My eyes scanned over the next couple of weeks, and “Dinner with Brant” was written down in a couple more places and crossed out a few times. I landed on today’s date, and there it was again: “Dinner with Brant” in neat, precise handwriting.

There was no doubt about it. You were dating that ugly, foolish piece of shit! How could you decide to be with that hideous asshat with a brain the size of a walnut? I physically winced as I imagined you two doing anything remotely sexual. He looked like a garbage fire next to me, and yet you would rather date some repulsive, vile creature who did nothing but crawl around from club to club and beg until he could get in and then drink until he couldn’t remember his own name. What could you possibly see in him?

I shouldn’t blame you. It probably wasn’t your fault. There had to be something else going on. Someone as perfect as you couldn’t willingly choose to be in a relationship with him. Maybe you were forced into it, or maybe he was abusing you. The thought of him laying a hand on you made my blood boil. He had already exhibited some pretty controlling behavior already. Though, I guess I wasn’t one to talk, since I was standing in the middle of your office uninvited and all.

But there’s no other way around it, gorgeous. Your boyfriend has to go.


	5. Nonstop

You spent an hour and twenty-seven minutes in the bathroom of your luxury penthouse, and when you walked out, your hair was slicked back into a skilled updo, and your makeup was applied expertly. There wasn’t a hair out of place or a nick of lipstick on your teeth. It made me furious seeing how much effort you were putting in for your date with Brant. He was so self-centered, I doubt he would even take a second glance at you.

I sat in the backseat of my town car and stared down at the grainy video of you on the iPad in my lap. I had taken the time earlier before I had left your penthouse to install bugs in almost every room in your place. The tiny video cameras had been planted carefully so you wouldn’t notice them but I would still have a good view of everything you did. Now, I could keep tabs on you twenty-four seven with you being none the wiser, and I wouldn’t even have to leave my couch.

You hugged your cream-colored, silk robe close around your figure and walked over to the bed. You let it fall off your shoulders, revealing a fuchsia bra and panties. You were wearing matching underwear for him? I barely had time to appreciate your curves before you picked up the dress laid out on your bed and stepped into it. It had an open back and a plunging neckline that flaunted the swell of your breasts. My tongue ran over the healed cut on my lip I had sustained earlier. I didn’t want him to see you like this. No one should get to see you like this except for me.

You smoothed out the skirt of your dress with your hands before disappearing into your walk-in closet. When you came out, giant, cushion-cut diamonds hung from your ears, and a heavy, diamond necklace laid flat against your collarbone. It managed to cover up some of your ample cleavage. Hopefully, Brant would be too distracted by your bling to ogle your tits all night.

You slipped your feet into your Louboutins and slung your purse over your shoulder. In my hands were a pair of headphones plugged into the iPad that picked up the signal of the listening device hidden in your purse. I had snuck one into every single designer purse of yours, so no matter which one you chose, I would still be able to hear you when you went on your date tonight.

You strode out of the front doors of your apartment building and towards the town car parked at the curb. You climbed into the backseat, and I clicked off the iPad, the screen flickering to black. I pointed at your car as it teared down the road, leaving tire tracks in its wake. “Follow that car,” I instructed my chauffeur.

He merely gave me a quick nod of his head before pulling onto the street. There was no doubt he knew I was stalking you now. I mean, he was the one who drove me to your penthouse everyday where I sat and watched for hours. But I paid him well enough so he knew to keep his mouth shut.

It was rush hour, which meant we ran into a lot of traffic. Usually, I would hate it, but with so many cars on the road swerving and honking at each other made it even easier to follow you while looking inconspicuous. We followed you for a couple of blocks before your car pulled up in front of a classy restaurant. It looked like the kind of joint that you needed to reserve a table at months in advance in order to get in. Well, unless you were me.

I watched you get out of your car and strut into the restaurant. Your town car drove away, and mine took its spot. I popped the headphones in my ears and listened as you approached the hostess. The audio quality wasn’t the best, since the tiny mic in your purse crackled with every movement, but it was manageable. “Hi, I’m meeting Brant Jones for dinner. Is he here yet?”

There was a pause before I heard a faint voice reply, “Yes, he is. Right this way.”

I looked up, and through the windows of the building, I could see you being led to a table in the corner of the restaurant. I could just make out Brant’s head of slicked, brown hair as he leaned back in his chair. He was dressed in a navy blue suit with a striped tie, and he looked every part the rich douchebag who manipulated vulnerable, naive girls for his own gain. When you approached, he stood from his chair and wrapped his arms around you. You returned the embrace and rested your head on his shoulder, your eyes falling closed in bliss.

My jaw ached from clenching it so hard, and I felt like I had venom running through my veins. You separated from each other, and I watched your lips move, but all I heard through my headphones was static. He pulled your chair out for you, and you gracefully sat down with your back to me. I ripped my headphones out of my ears. I needed to get closer. I needed to be able to see your face and hear your voice, or I was sure I was going to snap from staring at Brant all night.

I popped open the car door. “Drive around the block until I get back,” I said to my chauffeur without further explanation.

I caught his eye in the rearview mirror. “Yes, Mr. Wayne,” he responded.

I hopped out and slammed the door shut firmly behind me. I listened to the sound of tires scraping against gravel as the car pulled away behind me. I tugged on the lapels of my blazer and marched into the restaurant, past the cluster of nicely dressed people waiting to see if they could get a reservation, and straight up to the hostess. I ran a hand through my raven locks and pressed my palms flat against the table separating us. “I need,” I pointed to a table that was currently being cleared by a waiter, “that table.”

The hostess arched an over-plucked brow at me. “Do you have a reservation?”

“No.” There was no waver in my voice.

“Then I’ll have to put you down on our two hour long waitlist.” She flashed me a condescending smile. “Can I have your name, sir?”

My lips curled into a small smirk as I said, “Bruce Wayne.”

Her eyes widened to the size of saucers. “Bruce Wayne? As in, Wayne Enterprises?”

I suppressed an eye roll. “Do you know any other Bruce Waynes?” She opened her mouth to speak, and I held up a finger, stopping her. “That was rhetorical.” I reached inside my blazer and retrieved my leather wallet. “How much is it going to cost to get that table over there?”

The hostess chewed on her bottom lip and glanced around to make sure no one was watching us. “A hundred dollars,” she said in a voice so quiet I could barely hear her.

I raised a brow. I easily would have paid a grand. I looked down and opened my wallet, pulling out a hundred dollar bill. I held it out to her, and she snatched it from my hand, stuffing it in her black button-up before anyone could see.

“Right this way, Mr. Wayne.” She turned and guided me to the table I had indicated. I took a seat and grabbed the white napkin folded into an origami bird of paradise on the table. “Your waitress will be right with you.”

“Thank you,” I murmured, not even looking at her. I absentmindedly put my napkin in my lap as I stared at you across the room. I had picked a table situated a good ways away from you so it would be hard to pick me out from the rest of the high class diners, but still close enough that I could see you and Brant and listen in on your conversation.

I was worried that I had missed something vital, but it seemed like you had only had time to order drinks and receive them. I was surprised to see that neither of you were drinking alcohol, not even Brant, and had opted for iced teas instead. “I miss you,” Brant said with a tender look in his eyes that was so unlike him.

“I know, I’ve missed you too. I’ve just been so busy recently, it’s crazy. I swear, it’s like I’ve been running from meeting to meeting to meeting nonstop. I hardly sleep anymore.” You laughed, but then you leaned on your elbows and rubbed your temples, and I could see the exhaustion in your eyes. I wanted nothing more in that moment than to bundle you in my arms and rock you until you fell asleep.

“It sounds like you need a break.” He tilted his head to the side.

“You never really get a break as a fundraising chairman. It’s a full-time job.” You gestured with your glass in your hand as you spoke. “I work around the clock. No one really understands how much effort goes into the stuff I do.”

“I do. It’s why I don’t get to see you as much,” he teased.

You took it seriously though. “I know,” you reached for his hand on the table and intertwined your fingers, “and I’ll try to make more time for you.”

“It’s not me you should worry about. Your mom misses you like crazy.” There it was, your mom again. What was the deal with her?

You scoffed. “Oh, please. All that woman wants to do is take me to the salon or to the mall. No, thanks. I’ll pass.”

“Well, what’s that?” He quirked a brow as his eyes scanned over you. “A new dress?”

“Hey, I have to look the part.” You rolled your eyes. “High society needs to know they can trust me to send their money to the right places.”

“Well, you look nice.” His lips curled into a genuine smile. “Really, you do.”

“Can I get you something to drink?”

I snapped my head to see a petite waitress hovering over my table. “Uh...” I pretended to glance at the drink menu. “I’ll have a glass of whatever your house chardonnay is.”

I grabbed the menu and pushed it into her chest before looking back at you. I could still feel her presence, the wheels in her mind turning as she contemplated whether or not she should card me. After a second, I heard her murmur a quick, “I’ll be back,” before she scurried off like a scared, little mouse.

I tuned back into the conversation. “You really should try to relax every once in a while, though. The stress can’t be good.” The concern in Brant’s voice was evident. “You do a lot of great things for the community, but we can’t have you breaking down. Sometimes, I think you’re a little too addicted to giving back.”

“There’s worse things to be addicted to.” You shrugged. Brant’s demeanor slightly fell. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t mean it.”

“No, it’s okay,” he insisted.

“How is your recovery going, by the way?” You messed with the cloth napkin in your lap. “Is everything all right?”

“Everything is good. I’ve been clean for about two months now.” He smiled proudly. “But don’t try and change the subject on me. You’re not off the hook yet.” He laughed. “Can you at least try to unwind a little bit every now and then? Even if it’s just to have dinner with me?”

A giggle tumbled out from between your lips. “Okay.” You nodded firmly. “I’ll try.”

“Good.” His gaze was filled with pure adoration. “I love you.”

The corners of your lips tugged upwards into a small smile. “I love you too.”

He rubbed circles on the back of your hand with his thumb, and my stare burned a hole into his head. I love you? How could you say you love him? He was worse than me! When I knew him, he snorted coke and visited strip clubs and paid for prostitutes. This was all obviously some type of act, some show he was putting on to deceive you. How could you fall for it? How could you not see through it as easily as I could?

I clenched my fists so hard that my knuckles turned white and my nails dug into my palms. I wanted to split his skull open, to see the fear fill his eyes as I raised a knife only to bury it in his gut. I wanted to skin him alive and chop off his head and put it on a spike and display it in my front lawn as a warning. A warning to all the people who thought they could take what’s mine, and I wanted you to be there to see all of it.

“Here’s your drink.” The waitress set down a glass of greenish yellow liquid, breaking me out of my trance. She stood up straight and clasped her hands in front of her. “Have you decided what you want to order?”

I rested my head against my hand. “Actually, I’ll just get the check. Thanks.” I dismissed her with a wave, and she hesitated a moment before scampering away. I was losing my wits with you. All the dark urges I’ve tried to suppress with all the clubbing and the drinking and the drugs were surfacing again because of my obsession with you. I needed to stop, needed to distance myself from you before I completely lost control. You might not know when to take a break, but I certainly did.

I heard laughter drifting over from your table, and I looked down at my hands in my lap. I uncurled my fists to see eight little cuts dripping scarlet blood down my palms, staining my pale skin red.

-

I trudged into Wayne Manor, my head slightly spinning from the glass of chardonnay on an empty stomach. For once, Alfred didn’t immediately bombard me on my way in, and I prayed to God I wouldn’t run into him for the rest of the night. I turned into the living room, prepared to drown my sorrows in whiskey and marijuana until I felt another presence in there with me. My body tensed, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood on edge.

“Hi.” Grace stepped forward shyly. “Alfred let me in. I hope you don’t mind that I stopped by.”

_Goddamn that fucking butler._ “No, not at all.” I walked over to the mini bar and grabbed a bottle of dark liquid. “Would you like a drink?”

She nodded. “Sure.”

Did I even have to ask? I set out two glasses and twisted the cap off the bottle. I tipped it and poured the whiskey into the crystal glasses. “What can I do for you?”

“Well, I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.” She smiled sheepishly. “You were acting really weird that night a couple weeks ago at the Towers, and I haven’t seen you since then.”

“Yeah, sorry. I got kind of busy.” I put the bottle back and held out a glass to her.

“Thanks.” She took it from me and sipped the liquid. She pulled away and made a face before regaining her composure. “I understand that lifestyle can be too much sometimes. I don’t blame you for taking a break from all of that. Sometimes, I need a break myself.” She huffed.

I nodded like I understood, but I couldn’t remember an instance where she had ever declined going out on the town with us. “Right. Well, it was really sweet of you to check up on me, but I’m okay, so...” I put my hand on her shoulder to lead her out.

She grabbed my hand and spun around so she was facing me. “I have to admit, I also missed you.” She batted her eyelashes up at me.

I swallowed my repulsion. “We sure have grown close over the past couple of months, haven’t we?”

“Mmm, very close,” she purred and ran a hand down my chest. “I know you’ve been struggling a lot recently, and I probably can’t relate to what you’re going through, but I’ll always be here for you. No matter what, okay?”

I bit down on the inside of my cheek. “Thanks, Grace.”

“Of course,” she whispered. Without another word, she wrapped her fingers around the lapels of my blazer and pulled my face down to meet hers. She connected our lips in a rushed kiss. My limbs froze in surprise, and my eyes widened. But after a second, I closed my eyes and kissed her back. Maybe she could help me finally get you off of my mind.

I grabbed the backs of her thighs and lifted her up. She pulled away from me as an excited giggle escaped from her lips. She folded her legs around my waist and draped her arms over my shoulders, resuming the kiss. Her heels dug into my lower back until they fell to the floor with a clatter. I carried her out of the living room and down the hall, kicking the door to my bedroom open with my foot.

I dropped her onto the bed with a bounce, and she laughed. She sat up on her elbows and spread her legs, revealing a glimpse of the lacy underwear she was wearing. I climbed on top of her and crashed my lips against hers. I pushed up the skirt of her dress over her hips and hooked my thumbs under the fabric of her panties. She slid a hand in between our bodies and palmed me through my pants.

As hard as I tried, she just wasn’t doing it for me. Nothing about Grace excited me or turned me on anymore. Without realizing it, my thoughts filled with the images of you undressing as I had watched from inside your closet unbeknownst to you. I thought about how smooth and soft your skin looked, how badly my hands ached to feel your curves. I could feel my growing erection straining against the confines of my pants.

I tugged Grace’s underwear down her tan legs and tossed them to the side. I sat back on my heels and stared down at her. “Turn around. Get on your hands and knees.”

She blinked. “Okay.” She did as I said and turned over, sticking her ass in the air.

I unzipped my pants and pushed them down along with my boxers in one fell swoop, freeing my hardening cock. I pumped my length in my hand a couple of times before lining up with her entrance. She wiggled her hips, pushing back against me impatiently. I gripped her hips before thrusting into her almost to the hilt. She was so wet, I entered her easily. I moved my hips back and impaled her again, setting a slow pace.

“Fuck, Bruce!” she moaned. “That feels so good!”

My eyes snapped open. Her voice was too high-pitched, too whiny. It was like the sound of nails on a chalkboard or a cat’s scratchy howl. Yours was the complete opposite. It was husky and sultry and smooth as silk. I leaned forward and clasped my hand over her mouth. “Shut up. Don’t talk,” I panted as I continued to pound into her.

She whimpered, but the sound was muffled by my hand. From this angle, I couldn’t see her face, making it easier to pretend you were the one I was fucking instead. I increased my speed and felt pleasure rising in my gut. My hand slipped from her mouth as I held onto her hips again, my fingers digging into her flesh as I thrusted into her.

“(Y/N),” your name spilled from my lips involuntarily. “God, (Y/N).”

It was barely more than a whisper, but Grace’s head perked up. “Wha... what?” she managed through breathy moans.

My eyes flashed with fury, and I buried a hand in her tangled hair. I yanked her head back. “I said don’t talk!” I grunted.

She let out a sharp yelp. “Bruce, you’re hurting me!”

I growled and shoved her face down into the pillow. She started to cry or mewl. Which one it was, I couldn’t tell because the noise was stifled by the pillow. And I didn’t care. I was too enthralled in chasing my own pleasure and the image I had of you locked into my brain.

I remembered I still had your ruined panties in my pants pocket, and I dug them out. I brought them up to my nose and inhaled deeply. Your scent combined with my own release triggered my orgasm, and my hips snapped against Grace’s one last time before I spilled my seed into her. I grunted as a wave of ecstasy washed over me. I pulled out of her and collapsed limp onto the bed next to her, my body coated in a sheen of sweat and your panties dangling from my fingers.

I guess my break hadn’t lasted long.


	6. The Path the Blade Follows

When I came to, I was laying on a hard, cold, stone slab. I sat up, my whole body aching. I slowly blinked, clearing my blurry vision to take in my surroundings. I was in a dark, damp network of underground caves lit up by candles lining the walls. Water ran down the side of wrought iron gates sealing off some of the archways and trickled to the ground.

“Bruce...”

My head snapped to identify the source of the voice. Ra’s al Ghul turned the corner and stood at the edge of a hallway. He stalked towards me with a curved dagger in his hand, the silver steel edge glinting in the dim light. I hopped off of the slab and readied myself to fight. “Where am I?”

“Beneath Blackgate Penitentiary. Alfred Pennyworth and Jim Gordon are upstairs.” He glanced at the ceiling for a second before focusing his attention back on me. “In the company, unbeknownst to them, of my men.”

I drew my thick brows together. “Let them go. They have nothing to do with this.”

“Still playing the white knight, Bruce?” He smirked at me like a crocodile barring its teeth before eating a meal.

My eyes widened as realization hit me. “You replaced the guards before I got here.”

“I’m sure your friends can fend for themselves.” His tone was patronizing.

“You applied for diplomatic immunity, knowing I’d hear about it and come for you.”

“I wanted the knife, but nor for the reason you think.” He looked down at the blade in his hand with admiration. “It’s been ages since I first held this dagger. It was given to me moments after I was bathed in the Lazarus Pit.” He turned away from me and held his hand out under a stream of water dripping from the ceiling. “Submerged in the waters, suspended between life and death.” He stared at the dirty water filling his palm, mesmerized. “I saw a vision of you, my heir.”

“You’re insane,” I spat. “I’m not your heir. I don’t even understand what that means.”

He faced me, and before I knew what was happening, he grabbed my clenched fist. “It means that you are the only one who can end my suffering.” He forced the handle of the blade into my hand. He stared at me with desperation in his eyes. “Please.”

I furrowed my thick brows. “You want me to kill you?”

He let go of my hands, leaving me to hold the blade. “Set me free.” I lowered my gaze to inspect the dagger in my grip. It felt heavy, like it was weighing me down and dragging me to the center of the Earth. “This may be hard for you to understand, but I have walked this Earth for centuries waiting for you, Bruce. Only you can kill me, and only with that dagger. That is my curse. That is the meaning of my vision.”

I lifted my head to glare at him. “I don’t believe you.”

He walked closer to me. “Believe me.”

“This is just another manipulation.” I clenched my jaw.

He drew his brows together, and my skin crawled under his intense gaze. He looked like a predator stalking its prey, and I wasn’t sure if he was about to devour me or not. “See. Look.”

He gestured down to a dip in the stone floor where a puddle of grimy water was gathering. On the surface, I could see his reflection, but it wasn't him. He still had all the same features, but ashy, gray skin was pulled taut over his bones. His face was creased with deep wrinkles and lined with purple veins. His hair stuck up in gray, wiry tufts on his head. His eyes were dull with deep, shadowed circles around the sockets. He looked like a ghastly wraith, but instead of being intimidated, I couldn’t feel anything but pity for him. He looked tired and sorrowful, like he just wanted to lie down, fall asleep, and never wake up.

“My true form,” he mused. “Every moment of my life is agony.” He looked back up at me. “End my suffering.”

I let out a shaky breath. “Whatever your curse is, you deserve it for what you’ve done,” I seethed through gritted teeth.

“You’re angry, Bruce. I understand.” His tone was almost placating. “But unless you strike me down with that blade, you will never be free.”

“No!” I cut him off, shaking my head. “I won’t.” I turned my back on him and walked away. An uncomfortable silence settled over the room, and I could feel the pressure mounting.

“Then allow me to tell you what will happen if you don’t kill me.” His voice sliced through the tension like the blade in my hand. “I will disappear and let you live your life. You will follow the path of light, grow into a fine man, become a husband, a father. There may be a day when you forget I ever existed.”

I felt a single tear leak out of the corner of my eye and roll down my cheek. It dripped off my chin and landed on the floor with a satisfying drop.

“But then, I will return.” His tone darkened and turned sinister. He crept closer to me, and I could hear the sound of his footsteps click against the floor. “And I will kill everyone you love. Just as you watched your parents die, just as you watched me slice your friend’s throat, I will slaughter your wife and children before your very eyes, and there will be nothing you can do about it,” he hissed directly into my ear.

Rage surged within me, and I spun around. I stabbed the blade firmly in his chest; the feeling as it sunk into his flesh was unforgettable. His eyes bulged, nearly popping out of his skull, and he let out an airy groan. “Die!” I growled and shoved the blade in deeper. His painful howls increased in volume and echoed off of the stone walls, piercing my ears.

I finally pulled the blade out. Its silver surface was stained with his dark, inky blood, but his shirt was spotless. He ripped open his shirt and revealed the concavity where I had stabbed him, but there was no blood. Instead, there was a fiery, burning ember exploding in the hole in his chest. His skin paled, and black liquid ran through his protruding veins, making them look like bolts of lightning. A wave of ash stemmed from the wound and ate up his flesh, singeing it until it resembled char.

He collapsed and leaned back against the stone slab in the middle. “Yes,” he sighed.

My whole body trembled as I watched his eyes sink into his sockets and glaze over with lifelessness. His skin shriveled until he was merely a sack of bones. He was completely unrecognizable from the man he had been a few moments before. He looked like he had been a dead, decaying corpse for centuries.

I heard footsteps behind me, and I whirled around to see Alfred and Jim Gordon standing in the archway, guns drawn. They lowered their guns when they saw me. Their gazes drifted down to Ra’s, and their eyes widened when they saw him, or what was left of him. My cheeks felt wet; I hadn’t even realized I had been crying. The blade slipped from my grip and fell to the ground with a reverberating clang.

I wonder what it would be like, if I hadn’t have killed him. I wonder what would’ve happened if I had met you and didn’t have blood staining my hands. Maybe I wouldn’t have hurt you; maybe he would’ve instead. Alfred always thought that the reason I turned to the partying and the drugs and the drinks and the girls was because I felt guilty for killing Ra’s, but that wasn’t true.

It was because I had enjoyed it.

-

“Bruce! Bruce, wake up!”

I jolted awake in my bed. My body was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, the white sheets and my mess of dark curls sticking to me. My chest heaved up and down at a rapid pace, and I turned my head to see Grace sitting up in bed next to me. She held the sheets close around her bare body.

“Are you all right?” She leaned forward and caressed my cheek. “You were screaming in your sleep. Did you have a nightmare?”

“I’m fine,” I wheezed, swatting her hand away. I was shaking, and I hugged my knees to my chest. “You’re still here.”

She furrowed her brow. “Yeah, of course.” She tilted her head to the side. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

My breathing started to slow. “I don’t know. I thought you would be mad at me for last night or something,” I mumbled.

Her gaze lowered to the covers. “Oh, yeah. That.” She scratched her arm nervously. “Well, I know you’re going through a tough time right now. I want you to know I’m here for you.” She smiled and rested a gentle hand on my shoulder.

I ran my hands down my face. “God, I don’t want your pity.” I shrugged her hand off of me. “You’re not Mother Teresa, Grace. You’re just some horny chick who thinks she can chain me to her. You can’t help me, or fix me, or whatever the fuck you think you’re trying to do.”

Her expression contorted. “What?”

“I mean, how desperate can you be?” I laughed. “Did you really think I was gonna want to take you out to dinner and a movie just because I fucked you a few times?”

Her jaw hung so low, I thought it would hit the floor. “God, you are such an asshole, Bruce.” She narrowed her eyes at me. “You push away anyone who gives a single fuck about you.”

“Yeah, whatever. Just get the fuck out before I have to drag you out.” I gestured vaguely to the door before swinging my legs over the side of the bed away from her.

I held onto the edge of the bed, my shoulders square and my back tense. She didn’t say anything else, just gathered her clothes and cursed under her breath. I heard the door swing open and slam shut with a resounding bang. Then, I was all alone.

Now I was having night terrors even with someone else in bed with me. The darkness was growing stronger. None of my usual behaviors could quell this insatiable hunger inside of me anymore. I needed to do something, something to stop the consumption before it ate me alive and transformed me into a hollow shell of the person I once was.

I needed to make a sacrifice, and I knew just the perfect candidate.

-

I followed Brant Jones from his townhouse uptown all over Gotham City. Unlike you, he didn't do much. He went to a few lunches or to the mall here or there, but besides that, he mainly stayed at his home. He didn’t do anything interesting until one night, his town car pulled up in front of an old bar. I parked down the street in my classic, black Cadillac. In this instance, I didn’t think I could pay my chauffeur enough to keep his mouth shut.

I followed Brant into the bar, the hood of my leather jacket pulled up so it cast shadows over my face. However, it was so dark, it was hard to see anything anyway. The main staple was a giant, oak bar along one side of the room with a glittery neon sign above it. On the other wall were stuffy, tufted booths made out of red leather. The bar was packed. All of the stools were taken by people waiting to get their drinks, leaving everyone else to stand, and a large crowd occupied the booth in the back corner.

Brant headed straight for that booth, tugging on the lapels of his navy blazer and running a hand over his slicked back, brown hair. “Hey, guys!” He beamed, revealing two rows of bleached white teeth.

He was greeted with a series of “Hey, Brant”s in return. Several people in the group came over and hugged him. One of the stools opened up, and I immediately slid into it. I had a perfect view of everything that was going on at the booth, but it was hard to hear what they were saying over the chatter and the jazz music drifting out of the speakers.

“Happy birthday, man!” Brant shouted and wrapped his arms around a rather tall boy that I didn’t know. He patted him on the back, and when they pulled away, he produced a small box wrapped in paper out of his blazer. I assumed this was a birthday celebration of some kind.

The group sat down in the booth, and he took his place next to a girl I recognized as Emma Hsueh. She also used to attend Anders Prep with me, Tommy, and Grace. She and Brant smiled at each other before he slung an arm around her. It was done so casually, but I raised an eyebrow nonetheless.

They drank and talked for a while before they started opening presents. Brant got the birthday boy an expensive-looking Rolex, of course. Then, they drank and talked some more until the birthday boy footed the bill. I followed them as they spilled out of the booth and onto the sidewalk, mostly in pairs. I observed Brant as he walked out of the bar, his fingers covertly intertwined with Emma’s. Everyone departed from one other, each town car that pulled up to the curb a carbon copy of the other.

When no one was looking, Brant tugged on Emma’s hand and pulled her into a nearby alley. I chased after them and pressed myself against the brick wall of the bar. I leaned back and kicked one foot up on the wall so that if anyone walked by me, it wouldn’t look like I was eavesdropping on their conversation.

“Are you sure you can’t come over tonight?” I heard Emma ask in her whiny, high-pitched voice.

“No, I have something I gotta do,” came Brant’s reply. “But I’ll see you tomorrow, ‘kay, babe?”

“Okay.”

They went quiet, and I leaned in a little closer, my ears straining to hear what they were doing. Then, I heard it: the small, telltale sound of lips against lips.

He was cheating on you.

As if he wasn’t already bad enough, he had the audacity to cheat on you, and why? Because you had been a little busy lately? Because you couldn’t spend every waking second by his side since you were raising money for people in need? How selfish could he possibly be? I would never do something like that to you. Hell, I could hardly bring myself to touch Grace, and you weren’t even mine yet. You would be more than enough to satisfy me.

Emma walked out of the alley, and I lowered my head as she passed me. I pushed myself off of the wall and turned into the alley just as Brant was walking out. My chest bumped into his, and I stumbled back slightly. He lifted his head to make direct eye contact with me, his eyes widening.

“Brant?” I pulled my hood down and forced a smile on my face. “I thought that was you in there, but I didn’t want to interrupt whatever you guys were doing.”

“Oh, hey, Bruce.” He avoided my gaze. “Yeah, we were just celebrating a friend’s birthday.”

“Nice.” I nodded and shoved my hands in the pockets of my jacket. “What are you up to these days?”

“Nothing much.” He cleared his throat. “Bruce, I just want to clear the air. I know I was a total jerk to you the last time we spoke, and I’m not that person anymore. So, I just want to say I’m sorry. No hard feelings?”

_Not the same person? Right, ‘cause you weren’t a total jerk for cheating on your girlfriend just now with someone completely inferior._ “Of course. No hard feelings.” The frozen smile on my face didn’t reach my eyes.

His smile was genuine. “Great.” He looked over my shoulder. “Well, it’s getting late. I should probably go.”

He tried to sidestep me, but I blocked his path. “Why not stay a little while? We can catch up.” I tilted my head to the side. “We can talk about how you’re cheating on (Y/N) (Y/L/N) with Emma Hsueh.”

His eyes widened to the size of saucers. “Cheating on (Y/N)?” He shook his head, a slight laugh escaping his lips. “Bruce, it’s not what you think.”

“Oh, save it.” I moved forward, forcing him to back up further into the alley. “I was watching you two in there, being all lovey dovey under everyone’s noses. You thought no one would see you, but I saw you. I saw everything.”

“You were watching me?” He furrowed his brows. “Have you been stalking me?”

“Don’t try to turn this on me.” I jabbed a finger into his chest. “You’re the one cheating on your girlfriend when not too long ago you told her you love her.” My whole body was shaking. Adrenaline pumped through my veins, and my heart was beating so hard in my chest, I felt like it was going to burst. “You don’t love her like I do, and you’re never going to love her. Never again.”

“Bruce, what... what are you doing?” he stammered. “You’re scaring me.”

His pupils were blown out with fear, his irises mere rims around them. I smiled, for real this time. “Good.”

I took the switch knife out of my pocket and flicked it open. Before he could react, I clamped a gloved hand over his mouth and sunk it into his gut. He screamed into my hand, and I pulled the knife out only to shove it back in. I gritted my teeth as I stabbed him a few more times. I saw red as I plunged the blade into him, relishing in the noise the knife made as it sliced through his flesh.

I finally pulled it out, and vibrant, red blood dripped off of the edge and dotted the concrete ground. I looked down at his stomach; the fabric of his shirt was completely soaked in dark blood. I removed my hand from his mouth. His lips parted, but he was in so much pain that no sound came out. His knees buckled, and he crumpled to the ground in a pool of his own blood. His skin paled, and I watched the life fade from his eyes as red liquid bubbled from his lips. I would’ve spat on his corpse if it didn’t mean the cops could tie me to the crime.

I flipped the blade back in and tucked it into my pocket. I bent down and took his wallet out of his blazer. I would toss it in a dumpster a couple of blocks away. I didn’t bother to move the body; I just left it there. I pulled my hood back up and walked out of the alley. Someone would probably discover it in the morning, and by then, it would be too late to connect me to anything.

My only regret is that I didn’t made him suffer longer.


	7. Alone in the World

Brant Jones’s funeral was beautiful.

It was held at one of the most extravagant cathedrals in Gotham City, though I wouldn’t expect any less from a family of such a high stature as his. Sunlight refracted through the large stained glass windows and cast colored light on the marble archways. Classical music bounced off of the vaulted ceiling and echoed throughout the spacey room. Everything was aged and ornately carved and made out of old, dark oak.

He didn’t deserve any of it.

I sat at the very back pew, dressed in all black so I would fit in. There were so many people here, they hadn’t even noticed that I had slipped inside the building. I watched as people filed in, some with tear-stained cheeks and others with sorrowful expressions. At the very front of the room was a blown up, heavily edited photo of Brant and a sleek, black coffin. It was closed; I guess I had done that much of a job on him.

There had been a few mentions of him on the news right after his death, but they had faded away after a couple of days. The GCPD had tried the best they could, but with no DNA evidence, it was hard to place anyone at the scene of the crime. They had questioned all of the people at the birthday party, but no one had anything valuable to say except Emma, and even then all she had said was that she had last seen him in the alley. It was a pretty open and shut case: multiple stab wounds, bled out in an alley, missing wallet. It was easy to write it off as a mugging and call it a day.

You were upset. I mean, of course you were. He had been your boyfriend after all. I had watched you on the cameras in your penthouse when you had gotten the news. But you don't understand, this all has a purpose. He was in the way, and now that he’s not, we can finally be together.

Eventually, a hush fell over the cathedral, and you stood up. You were seated in the very front pew next to your mom. She stood up with you and wrapped her arms around you in a bone-crushing hug. You hugged her back, and when you pulled away, she took out a handkerchief and wiped away a single tear streaking down her wrinkled cheek.

You walked up to the podium next to the picture of Brant, your shiny black heels clicking against the wooden floor. You wore a knee-length dress that covered your skin but still fit your figure. Your hair was in an updo, and you wore minimal makeup that still accentuated your features. You looked put together even when you were falling apart. Even in mourning, you never failed to look anything less than gorgeous.

“Hi. My name is (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” You shuffled your index cards against the podium and swallowed roughly. I had never heard you sound so insecure or nervous before. “As many of you know, Brant Jones was my stepbrother.”

My heart stopped beating in my chest. Stepbrother? Brant had been your stepbrother? But that didn’t make any sense. He had been your boyfriend. He had to have been.

“My mother passed away from cancer when I was a child. It was really tough on me and my dad. We thought there was always going to be this giant hole in our family. But then, my dad met Maria Jones.” You smiled at your mom in the front pew. “And she welcomed us into her family with open arms. She was everything I could ask for as a mother figure and more.”

Your mom, Maria, beamed up at you in the front pew. So she was actually Brant’s mom? Shit. It all clicked into place. That was why you had said you were an orphan.

Your smile vanished, and you stared down at your hands. “And then my dad died from a heart attack.” You picked at your french manicure. “I thought I had no one. I thought I was alone in the world.” You looked up. “I know Brant wasn’t always a perfect angel. He was constantly struggling with addiction and mental illness. He was in and out of mental hospitals for years, but he was the most determined person I knew. He never let anything get the better of him. He knew how to persevere, and that was something he taught me.” Your chin started to wobble, and your eyes shined with tears. “But now he’s gone. And I once again feel like I’m alone in the world. I once again feel like I have no one.”

You clasped a hand over your mouth as you struggled to maintain your composure. Your face turned red from the sobs you were holding back, and you squeezed your eyes shut to keep in the tears. My pulse was rising, like my blood was replaced with gun powder and I was going to explode at any moment. I didn’t mean to take another family member from you. I didn’t want to scar you for life. I just wanted to protect you from people that wanted to use your kindness against you, to keep you all to myself. What was I thinking? How could I have acted so irrationally?

Maria rose from her seat and started to approach you, but you held up a hand. She backed down, and you smoothed out the fabric of your dress with your hands, sucking in a shaky breath. “I don’t know who killed Brant. I may never who did, but I love him. And I’ll miss him for the rest of my life.” Your cheeks were shiny with tears, and the tip of your nose was red. “Thank you.”

You stepped down from the podium, and Maria immediately rushed to you. She gave you another suffocating hug before moving to the podium herself. You sat down in your pew as she began her speech, but I was too transfixed on you to listen to her words. After Maria, several other friends and family members gave eulogies that ranged from tearful to mournful to sentimental. Even Emma made one, revealing herself to have been his real girlfriend. But all the words swam around me; they never really reached my ears.

After all that was over, everyone started milling about. A good amount of people approached you and offered their condolences. I waited behind them, my hands shoved deep in my pockets and my head hanging low. Finally, they dispersed, and I slowly shuffled over to you, your back facing me.

It took me a second, as if your name got stuck in my throat. “(Y/N).” My voice cracked.

You turned around, and your lips parted in shock. “Bruce.” The skin around your eyes was swollen and puffy. “What are you doing here?”

I lunged forward and wrapped my arms around you, pulling you into my chest. Your body stiffened at first, but eventually you relaxed in my embrace. The feeling of your body against mine and the warmth radiating off of your skin calmed my nerves, set all of my worries at ease. I buried my nose in your hair and inhaled the scent of your shampoo mixed with your body wash and your perfume.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” I whispered into your ear.

“Thanks, Bruce. That means a lot.” You pulled away from me, and I resisted a frown. I wanted to hold you against me for as long as I possibly could and never let go. I felt like I had to be touching you every second or I would burst. “You knew Brant, didn’t you?”

“I did.” I slowly nodded. “We weren’t always on the best of terms.”

“Yeah, he told me.” You let out the slightest laugh, and even though it was forced, it was nice to see you smile.

I raised a brow. “He talked about me? What did he say?”

“Oh, all good things,” you insisted. “He was mainly just remorseful about teasing you when you first met. He felt guilty ‘cause he knew you had been through a lot.” Your countenance shifted as you looked down at your feet.

“It’s okay.” My tone was soft. “I knew he was a good person underneath.”

“He had a really rough childhood. His father abused him and his mom until he left when he was a kid, so it led him down a really bad path.” You wrung your hands together. “He was in such a good place when I last saw him. He had so much going for him. He told me that I shouldn’t work so much and see him more often. Now, I’m wishing I had listened to him and spent more time with him before he...” You trailed off. Your mouth hung open, but no words came out. You emitted a squeak as tears poured from the corners of your eyes and spilled down your cheeks.

“Hey, it’s all right.” I cupped your face in my hands and swiped your tears away with my thumbs. “Don’t cry. Brant knew how much you loved him.” You stared up at me, stunned, but too overcome with emotion to speak. If it wasn’t totally inappropriate in this setting, I would’ve licked your cheeks dry and kissed you where you stood. “Did you really mean it when you said you felt alone, like you had no one?” I tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Because you have me.”

You came to your senses and stepped back, pushing my hand away gently. “It was probably a little dramatic of me to say that. I didn’t mean to make anyone worry, it was just how I was feeling in the moment.” You rubbed your arm anxiously.

“Well, I can’t help but worry about you.” I flashed you a smile, and you shivered slightly. “How’s the investigation going? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“No leads. It’s a hopeless case. They caught someone on the cameras who looked like he was waiting for Brant to go into the alley, but it’s impossible to identify him. I’m pretty sure the GCPD is just a little short of giving up entirely.” Your shoulders slumped. Of course, I had already known the answer.

“I’m so sorry.” I attempted to sound as sympathetic as possible. “I hope they find whoever did it soon.”

“Thanks, Bruce. And thanks for stopping by.” You chewed on your bottom lip. “I’m sure it would mean a lot to Brant, if he was still here...”

“Of course. Anything for you.” I placed my hand on your shoulder, and you glanced at it wearily. I looked over my shoulder to see more people waiting around for you, shooting me impatient glares. “I think some other people want to talk to you. I’ll see you around.”

“Okay. Bye, Bruce.” You gave me a shy, little wave, and it made my heart flutter. I walked away and looked back to see you surrounded by a sea of black. People were talking to you and offering you words of comfort. You nodded and tried to smile, but there was no hiding the unhappiness in your eyes. It fueled me with a new fire just seeing it.

There was no reason for me to stick around after talking to you, so I had my town car take me home. The whole ride, my head was spinning. All of the pieces were in front of me, if I had just looked: your mom, saying I love you, Emma. If I had just not acted on my impulses right away, I wouldn’t have made you so heartbroken. I didn’t like seeing you upset, at least not like this. I could handle it before if it was a part of something greater, but now? Now, I didn’t know anymore.

“We’re here, Mr. Wayne.” My chauffeur brought me out of my thoughts, and I turned my head to see the steps leading up to Wayne Manor out of the window.

“Thanks.” I shoved the door open with my shoulder and climbed out of the car. I closed the door with a click behind me and stomped up the steps. I pushed the door open so hard the doorknob rammed into the wall, making an indent in the plaster. I’d get someone to fix that later. I slammed the door shut firmly and stormed into the living room.

Alfred looked up from where he was sitting on the tufted, velvet sofa, reading a book. “Oh, Master Bruce! You’re home early-”

“Why didn’t you tell me Brant Jones was (Y/N) (Y/L/N)’s step brother?” I stood in front of him, back rigid, fists clenched, teeth gritted.

He furrowed his gray brows. “Because I didn’t know? What is this about, Master Bruce?”

“Brant Jones died, Alfred. He was murdered in an alley. The GCPD think it was a mugging.”

“I know. I saw it on the news.” He tilted his head to the side. “You don’t think this has to do with your parents’ death, do you?”

“No, but... but...” I started to pace back and forth in front of the glass coffee table. “You had to have known he was her step brother. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I just told you why, Master Bruce. I had no idea her father remarried.” He slowly rose to his feet.

“Yeah, well her dad died, too. And now Brant’s dead, and she has no one left.” I fell to my knees. “She’s all alone, and it’s all my fault! All because I...” I ran my shaky hand through my curls so hard I thought I would tear my hair out. My breathing came in short, shallow gasps, and I felt like I was hyperventilating.

“Because you what?” I looked up at Alfred to see him staring down at me with concern written all over his face. I could tell by his posture that he felt threatened, but I was too in my own head to do anything about it. “What did you do, Master Bruce?”

“I... I don’t know.” I fell back and hugged my knees to my chest. I felt something hit my cheek, and reached up to wipe away a tear. I hadn’t even realized I had started crying. “I thought I was doing the right thing, but now I’m not so sure. I just don’t know what to do anymore, Alfred.”

“It’s okay, Master Bruce.” He walked around the coffee table to me. “I know you’re going through a tough time right now.” He squatted down so he was on the same level as me. “Why don’t you go back to Wayne Enterprises? I’m sure everyone would be so pleased to have you back there.”

My grief turned to rage in a split second. “You mean _you_ would be pleased to have me back there. Stop seizing the moment to push your fucking agenda on me!” I jumped to my feet. “I know you think you’re doing what my parents would’ve wanted you to, but newsflash, Alfred! You’re my butler, not some guardian angel my parents left to take care of me when they died.”

“You’re wrong, Master Bruce.” He stood up. “I am your legal guardian.”

“You _were_ my legal guardian. Need I remind you, I’m an adult now?” I walked past him, knocking my shoulder into his as I did so. “The only thing keeping you here is that you work for me, and I just don’t think that’s cutting it anymore.”

He whirled around to face me. “What are you saying, Master Bruce?”

“I’m saying you’re fired, Alfred. I thought that would’ve been obvious.” I put my hands on my hips, keeping my anger at bay. “I want you packed and out of the manor within the next hour.”

He cracked a smile, and a laugh escaped his lips. “Master Bruce, you can’t be serious. After everything we’ve been through-”

I brought my fist down on the coffee table, smashing the glass to bits. The sound as the shards clattered to the wooden floor was deafening to my ears, but the sting as some pieces sliced my skin and embedded themselves in my flesh hurt worse. I bit back any yelps that wanted to slip out, and tears stung my eyes. I raised my hand and stared, mesmerized, at the ruby red blood that seeped out of the cuts in my skin. No doubt that was going to leave some scars.

I raised my head to meet Alfred’s gaze. He looked absolutely terrified, but it wasn’t of me. It was _for_ me. “I am serious.” I stared him straight in the eye. “Have your stuff packed, or I’ll call the police.”

He swallowed roughly. “Fine, Master Bruce,” he shook a finger at me, “but if you know what’s good for you, what’s good for everyone else, you’ll stay away from that girl and get yourself some help.”

“I’m done taking advice from you.” I dismissed him with a wave of my bloody hand. “Get out.”

He let out a sigh filled with so much sympathy and so much pity that it physically made me sick before turning around and marching out of the room. My stature slightly relaxed when he was gone, and I walked over to the desk that was previously my father’s but now belonged to me. I pulled out one of the bottom drawers with my good hand and dug out a mini first aid kit. I dropped it onto the desk and sank into the comfy, office chair behind me. I took out a pair of tweezers and, cradling my hand, started to pluck out the shards of glass stuck in my skin. I winced and flinched as each piece came out, but I didn’t stop until there was a pile of bloodstained glass on the desk. I stretched my fingers and let out a low groan as a dull ache ran through my sore muscles.

I grasped for a bottle of whiskey on the desk. I twisted the cap off and poured the dark brown liquid over my hand. It dripped into the open wounds, and it felt like my skin was burning all over. I bit into my lip to keep in my howls so hard I thought it would bleed. I took a swig from the bottle before setting it back down on the desk. I rummaged through the first aid kit and found some white bandages. I started wrapping up my hand when I spotted my iPad resting on the desk. I reached for it, but my hand hovered over it hesitantly for a second. Could Alfred be right? Should I leave you alone?

My curiosity got the better of me, and I gave in, switching on the device. The screen filled with live surveillance footage of each of the rooms in your penthouse. I noticed two figures in the one situated in your living room and clicked on it. It enlarged so I could see you and Maria hugging by the door to your home.

“Are you going to be okay by yourself?” She asked, pushing hair out of your face. “You’re sure you don’t want to come stay with me in the manor? You know you’re always more than welcome.”

“I know, Mom, I know.” You sniffled. “But I’ll be okay. You go home.”

“Okay, but get some rest, sweetie.” She placed a kiss on your forehead before moving towards the door. “I better not hear anything about any donations for at least a week.” She pointed at you.

You laughed. “Okay, Mom. Bye!”

She let herself out, and once the door closed shut, your polite demeanor fell. You took some unstable steps towards your couch, but you collapsed to the ground before you could make it there. Your chest wracked with sobs, and tears ran down your red face. You sucked in desperate gasps of air in between cries so much that it sounded like you were choking on your own tears.

My heart broke at seeing you so absolutely devastated, and all at my hand, too. I didn't mean for things to end up this way. This wasn’t what I had planned. But now, I had to make it up to you. I had to make things better. I had to fill the hole in your life and make you feel complete again.

No matter what. I promise, gorgeous. I won’t let you down.


	8. Forget

Wayne Enterprises also had your phone number on file.

You picked up on the third ring. “Hello?”

I smiled. Hearing your voice put me in a good mood. “Hey, gorgeous. It’s Bruce.”

“Bruce?” I could sense the confusion in your tone. “How’d you get my number?”

“Well, I’m calling on official Wayne Enterprises business. I was thinking of donating some money, but I didn’t know which organization to give to. So I thought, who could I call that could help me find some place to put my money?” I spoke as I reclined in my desk chair.

“Well, you called the right person for the job.” You chuckled, and my heart fluttered. “How much were you thinking of donating?”

“Uh...” I tapped a pen against my bottom lip. “About ten million.”

There was silence on the other end, and for a second I thought you had hung up. “Ten million?” you repeated.

“Yep. So, do you have any ideas?” I leaned back and kicked my feet up on my desk.

“I think we’d have to talk more in person. I don’t think I could just give you advice over the phone.”

I smirked. I had depended on you saying that. “Well, when are you free next? I know you’re a busy girl.”

“Well, technically I’m supposed to be on a break.” You sounded tentative. “But ten million. That’s a lot.”

“Are you doing anything later today? Say, this afternoon?” I glanced at the Cartier watch on my wrist.

Another pause, and then a small sigh. “No, I’m free. Where do you want to meet?”

“How about Roosevelt’s downtown? I’m craving coffee.”

“Okay.” Your tone perked up. “I’ll meet you there. Thanks so much for calling me, Bruce. I promise you we’ll find a good place for your money to go to.”

“I know you will.” The grin on my face was uncontrollable. “Bye, gorgeous.”

A couple hours later, I showed up at Roosevelt’s a little earlier than the time we had agreed to meet up at. I wanted to show you how good I could be to you, how we were meant to be together. I got your usual order of a vanilla latte and a piece of coffee cake plus a plain, black coffee for myself. I took a table towards the back of the cafe away from all the other patrons so we could have some privacy. The cafe was the perfect hangout for hipsters and college students taking advantage of the free wifi. It was all rustic wood and shiny metal and green, potted plants in white ceramic vases.

The bell rang on the entrance to the cafe, signaling a new customer had arrived. I looked up to see you strutting through the door. You wore a long, flowing dress, perfect for summer, that had buttons all the way up the front and strappy sandals. You had a giant tote slung over your shoulder and pushed your Dolce & Gabbana tortoiseshell sunglasses onto your head, searching the cafe for me. It was probably the most casual I had ever seen you look, and it made me happy to think you felt more comfortable around me than anyone else.

“(Y/N)!” I shouted over the sound of clinking glasses and indistinct chatter. I waved to you. “Hey, gorgeous! Over here!”

Your head snapped in my direction, and a smile came over your features when you saw me. It made my heart race. You weaved through the tables until you came to mine. “Hey. Just let me go order, and then we can start.”

“Don’t bother. I already got something for you.” I gestured to the steaming mug of light brown liquid topped with foam and slice of coffee cake on a ceramic plate on the table in front of me. “Is a vanilla latte and coffee cake okay?”

Your eyes widened. “Um, yeah, that’s like my go to order.” You laughed. “How’d you know?” You pulled out the chair across from me and slid into the seat.

“Well, Roosevelt’s coffee cake is famous, and then I just picked something with lots of caffeine that was sweet like you.” I winked and took a sip of my coffee. It was piping hot, but the burn almost felt good.

Blush crept its way to your cheeks. “Well, thanks.” You dropped your purse in your lap and started digging through it. “I brought a few things. I hope you don’t mind.” You lifted binder after binder out of your purse and dropped them onto the table with a heavy thud. You started flipping through them and revealed pages upon pages of files and data and info all separated by dividers and in alphabetical order. I found it adorable how neat and tidy you were.

“That’s more than a few things,” I joked.

You laughed. “Okay, where to start...” You pursed your lips as you stared at a page lined with black, minuscule text. “Well, what are you looking to get out of your donation?”

I quirked a brow. “What do you mean?”

You looked up at me. “Well, most people want something named after them or to attend some exclusive event or something.”

“I thought the whole point was to be giving back.” I chewed on the inside of my cheek. “Make it anonymous.”

“You want it to be anonymous?” You sounded surprised.

“Yes,” I confirmed.

“Okay.” You opened another binder. “That opens up a lot more options for you, then. I have a few ideas of organizations that could really use the ten million to do great things.” You landed on a page outlined with a spreadsheet. “Gotham Children’s Hospital needs at least five million to build a new wing for their patients with cancer, plus three million to keep it running for a year.” You turned a page. “Or the Gotham City Animal Shelter needs to rent a new space to house all of their animals. They’re dealing with some overcrowding right now. The money would be enough to keep them afloat for a couple of years.” You looked up from the binder. “I’ve donated to these organizations before, and I can tell you that they deliver on what they promise. Here, I’ll show you some of the projects I’ve worked on with them in the past.” You thumbed through a section of packets stuffed in clear sheet protectors.

I could hear all of the things you were saying, but I was too mesmerized by the look on your face. You were so animated when you talked about giving, so utterly passionate and devoted, that your eyes lit up and your face glowed and your lips tugged upwards into an uncontrollable smile. You talked about some of your past donations, but I knew about them all already. A simple google search had brought up article after article praising you for the work you did with these organizations. They were always accompanied with pictures of you holding up giant checks marked with multiple zeros, a smile plastered on your face. I had seen many like them before, with celebrities or big name CEOs, but yours were unlike any I had seen before. The look on your face was genuine. It didn’t conceal any ulterior motive. You weren’t doing this for the attention or the notoriety, like the rich narcissists you so often gave advice to. You were doing this all for you and the people you were helping.

“So,” you looked up at me with a sense of finality, “do you have any questions?” Your bright, cheery expression faltered slightly when I didn’t respond at first. “Bruce? Are you listening?”

“I guess I just don’t understand why,” I finally mumbled after a bit.

“Why... what?” You let out a nervous giggle.

“Why do you do this?” I leaned forward with my elbows on the table. “Why do you give so much? Why do you spend every waking moment running around and collecting money from people who couldn’t give a shit about anyone expect for themselves? You could easily just shrug off all responsibility like everyone else, live in the lap of luxury, hole yourself up in some giant mansion on the coast of Saint Tropez. Lord knows you have the money.” I tilted my head to the side as I studied you intently. “Why do you feel so indebted? What do you get out of it?”

You clasped your hands together and folded them in your lap, your legs crossed. You were quiet for a while, your brow tensing every now and then signaling that you were gathering your thoughts. “When my dad died, I was in a really dark place,” you answered at last, your voice soft. “I felt useless, hopeless. I was hurting all the time. Thinking back now, I could’ve gotten mixed up with the wrong people, with some really dangerous stuff...” You trailed off, and for a moment I thought you were done until you started up again, “But then I went to this charity event, and it was the first time I had felt good in such a long time. It felt good to know that I was helping people, making other people’s lives better. It made me feel like I had a purpose again. Like all the shit I had been through was worth it. I didn’t want anyone to feel the way I did. Giving back makes me feel like I’m actively doing something about it, you know?”

I just stared at you for a moment, letting all your words sink into my skin. “No, I don’t,” I murmured.

A grin spread across your face. “Well, that’s why we’re here today, aren’t we? I promise to help you to the best of my ability.”

“Oh, you are helping me.” _In more ways than you can imagine,_ I wanted to add, but I bit my tongue.

“Now, it’s my turn to ask.” You squinted at me. “Why are you donating, and why such a big amount? At first I thought it was for good publicity, but then you said you wanted it to be anonymous. This isn’t for some kind of tax break, is it?” Your eyes widened, and you bit your lip. “Sorry. I don’t usually ask so many questions. It just seems so out of the blue.”

I smirked at how flustered you were. “It’s all right.” I raised my mug to my lips. “You’re not the only one who’s looking for a way to escape their pain. But if I’m being honest, I also just wanted an excuse to see you again.” I took a drink as I gaged your reaction.

The corners of your lips lifted into a smile as a chuckle spilled from your lips. “Well, that’s a hell of an excuse.” Your laughter rang out freely now. “An expensive one too, might I add.”

“Worth every penny.” I winked. “Besides, you and I both know I have more than enough to spare.” I set the mug down and grabbed your hand that was resting on the table. “Tommy and I are going with some friends to the Sirens Club tomorrow. Why don’t you come with us?”

You looked down at our intertwined fingers. “You don’t remember anything about me at all, do you?” There was a hint of sadness in your tone, and your lips pulled down into a pout.

My grip on your hand tightened. “Why don’t you just tell me?”

“I guess I was hoping you would remember on your own.” You unlaced your fingers from mine and pulled your hand away, leaving mine cold.

There was this look of disappointment in your eyes that made my heart sink into my gut. I wanted to tell you it didn’t matter what had happened between us in the past because I loved you now, you consumed all of my thoughts every moment I was awake, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t without completely snapping. So I had to sit and watch everything I had worked for for months now crumble and give way to oblivion once again.

“I understand if you don’t want to give me the ten million.” You started to pack up your things in a hurried manner. “And I can pay you back for the food and the latte.”

“Hey, don’t be ridiculous.” I put a hand on your shoulder, stopping your actions. You looked up at me, and I gave you a smile. Even now, I still couldn’t be mad at you. You were just too perfect. “Of course I’ll give you the money. You’re busy, and I wouldn’t want to waste your time, now would I?” I let go of you. “Hold on.”

I took out my checkbook and a fountain pen. I clicked it before writing on a check in neat, discernible handwriting. You anxiously picked at your manicure and took your bottom lip between your teeth as you waited for me. I wrote down double the amount I had promise and ripped it out of the book. I held it out to you with a wide grin on my face.

“Here. Give to both the hospital and the shelter.”

You looked down at the check in my hand, and your eyes grew to the size of saucers. “Bruce, that’s too much. I don’t think I can accept this.”

“Don’t be silly.” I shook it slightly. “Take it,” I urged you.

You smiled. “Okay. If you insist.” You laughed slightly and grabbed onto the check, your fingers brushing against mine. “Thank you so much.” You took it from me and yelped. You raised your finger to inspect it. You had a large paper cut splitting the pad of your pointer finger down the middle. Blood the prettiest shade of vibrant red I had ever seen trickled out and spilled down your smooth skin.

Without thinking, I reached for your hand. I wrapped my fingers around your wrist and brought your wounded finger up to my lips. I stuck it in my mouth and sucked the scarlet blood off. The metallic taste hit my tongue, but it tasted sweet and intoxicating unlike any liquor I had ever had in my life. I curled my tongue around your finger and lapped up your blood, not wanting to waste a single drop. I closed my eyes and could barely keep from letting out a low moan of pleasure.

I heard a small squeak, and my eyes snapped open. You stared at me, your eyes wide and your cheeks flushed. Your whole body was frozen and tense, like you were unsure of what to do. I popped your finger out of my mouth with an obscene squelch. I could still taste the remnants of your blood on my tongue, and it filled me with this deep, insatiable hunger like nothing I had ever known. It made me stare at your skin and wonder what it would look like all marked up, if I peeled it back and stared at the blue and purple veins pumping blood concealed underneath.

I shot up out of my chair. “I have to go.” I looked over you one last time, and a shiver ran down my spine. “Bye, gorgeous.”

I stormed out of the cafe before you could get a word in and rode home in my town car. Not even you were safe from me. I could feel the darkness plaguing my thoughts like a storm cloud hovering over my head. I thought you needed me, but maybe you were better off on your own. You had your mom and your work, and all I had done was meddle and screw shit up in the first place.

Wayne Manor was quiet, even quieter than usual with Alfred gone. I thought I would be relieved knowing that he couldn’t pester me anymore, but it only filled me with a strange sense of emptiness. I stumbled into my room, feeling lost, confused, hopeless. I was exhausted even though I hadn’t done anything all day. I held onto the giant, oak dresser to steady myself and grasped for a bottle of whiskey. They were scattered all over the manor these days. I wanted nothing more than to drink and wallow and numb myself until I forgot everything and the world was nothing but a blur of color around me.

_Forget._ I twisted the cap off and tilted my head back, pouring the whiskey straight down my throat. I barely felt the burn, and what I did feel pleased me and made warmth spread across my cheeks. My gaze lazily drifted down to the dresser where I spotted a wooden case in the corner holding several expensive watches, but the one in the middle caught my eye. It was silver and ornate, and its face was midnight black. Compared to all the others, it was priceless.

My father’s watch.

Wait...

-

The bell rang shrilly and echoed throughout Anders Preparatory Academy as I climbed the black, winding staircase. I kept my head down, ignoring the pointed glares thrown in my direction, and stayed as close to the banister as possible and out of people’s way. A pair of large dress shoes came to a stop in front of me on the landing, and I skidded to a halt. I looked up and made direct eye contact with Tommy Elliot.

“Hey, Brucey.” He grinned like a crocodile who had just spotted its prey. His gang of schoolyard bullies filed down the stairs behind him, Brant Jones among them.

“It’s Bruce.” I lifted my chin, trying to seem like I wasn’t shaking. “No Y.”

“No parents either, so I can call you what I like.” He curled his upper lip at me.

I stood, rigid, frozen to the spot. “Please get out of my way.” My tone was sharp.

“Snobby, little jerk, isn’t he?” he sneered to his friends. “For an orphan.”

“You’re being very unkind.” I furrowed my thick brows. “I don’t understand why.”

He chuckled. “Boy, you’re a weirdo.” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his school uniform. “Your mother must have-”

Without hesitation, I brought my hand down on his cheek with a resounding smack. He turned his head to the side, his lips parted in shock. “Don’t talk about my mother,” I hissed.

He faced me head on, a large smile spread across his face. He barely seemed affected. He swiped the corner of his mouth, checking for blood, but there was none. “Oh, really?”

I kept my serious gaze trained on him, not backing down for a second. He towered over me, intimidating me with his height, and in a flash, his fist came into contact with my cheekbone. Pain blossomed throughout my skin, and I clutched the side of my face. I didn’t have time to retaliate before he was on me again. He was so much bigger than I was that he overpowered me easily. His fists barreled down on me, landing blow after blow to my head until it felt like my brain was rattling around inside my skull. He punched and kicked me until I was curled up into a ball on the floor, my hands shielding my face. His friends closed around me, smiling and laughing at the broken orphan boy cowering out of fear.

Tommy gave one last kick to my gut, and I jolted with a high-pitched yip. “Come on, let’s go. I think he got what was coming to him,” he commanded his friends.

Their dress shoes shuffled past me on the polished floor. I didn’t dare move until I popped one eye open to make sure they were all gone. I could still hear their cackling echoing from a distance as I unfurled from my position. I groaned as my whole body ached all over. No doubt I had more than a few bruises forming on my face from the abuse. I leaned back against the banister and kicked my legs out in front of me, collapsing with a sigh. My chest heaved up and down, sucking in the air that had been kicked out of me by Tommy’s solid dress shoes. I could taste the metallic tang of blood in my mouth and spat onto the floor next to me. Sure enough, the bright red hue of my saliva stood out against the black hardwood. My head lolled, and my arms fell limp at my sides. There had been no one around to witness my beatdown, no one around to stop it.

Well, almost no one.

I saw one eye peering around a column at the top of the stairs. I drew my thick brows together and sat up slightly. “Who’s there?” The eye widened before disappearing completely. “Wait, don’t go! I just want to know who you are,” I called out, my voice cracking desperately.

For a moment, there was silence, and I thought whoever it was had gone. But then, you stepped into my view. You stood at the top of the steps, dressed in an Anders Preparatory Academy uniform. Everything about your posture and your stance screamed shy and reserved. You had your hands clasped together and your head down, your shoulders hunched. I could barely see your face through the curtain of hair concealing it from me.

“I’m sorry.” Your voice wouldn’t have been audible if it weren’t for the echo of the room.

“What are you sorry for?” My voice was weak and groggy. I slowly blinked, trying to clear the fuzziness in my head.

“I should’ve done something.” You fidgeted with your nails. They were chewed to the wicks.

I shook my head. “There’s nothing you could’ve done.”

“I could’ve gotten in between you two.” Your black Mary Janes slapped against the wooden stairs as you rushed towards me. “I could’ve gotten someone. I could’ve told him-”

I cut you off by shushing you, my eyes fluttering closed. I groaned again as a dull pang of pain shot through me. It felt like I had just been hit by a truck, like I would never be able to walk again. Your gaze raked over my pitiful state.

“I think I have an ice pack in my bag.” You kneeled in front of me and dropped your leather backpack to the ground. You rummaged through it before retrieving a blue gel ice pack and held it out to me. “Here you go.”

I attempted to reach for it, but barely raised my arm before pain shot through me again. My arm fell to my side as I winced, leaning my head back against the banister. You hindered for a second, unsure of what to do, before scooting closer to me.

“Here,” you murmured and held the ice pack up to my face. Your touch was cautious and gentle. I relaxed the instant I felt the cool, wet ice pack against my cheek and let out a sigh of relief. I felt like my body started to heal itself immediately; it was almost like magic. Or you were like magic.

“You’re (Y/N) (Y/L/N), right?” I grumbled. “You’re in my math class?”

You nodded. “Yeah.” The sound was short and concise.

“Brant Jones is your stepbrother?” I continued, and once again, you answered me with a firm nod of your head. “He was there, with Tommy. When he...”

“I know.” You lowered your gaze to the floor. “I’m sorry. He’s a good person, really. He just runs with the wrong crowd.”

I hummed in response. A silence fell over us, but it was almost comforting. I watched as you moved the ice pack around my face, to my jaw, to my neck. Your eyes flitted across my features, searching for any bruises or scrapes or cuts. You were so tender and kind and caring, the complete opposite of your brother.

“I heard about your parents,” you squeaked after a bit. “I’m sorry.”

I wanted to roll my eyes, but I couldn’t due to my current condition. “It’s okay, really.”

You lifted the ice pack and shifted your ministrations to my other cheek. “You know, my mom died, when I was little.” You pressed the cool substance to my skin. “All I ever wanted was for people to stop feeling sorry for me.”

I laughed, but it sounded more like a wheeze. “Yeah. Sometimes, I just want to lock myself in my room so I don’t have to hear people apologize to me anymore.” I started to laugh again, but it turned into a full-on coughing fit. It didn’t stop until I hacked up some blood, red spittle dribbling down my chin.

You shoved the ice pack back into your bag and took out a napkin instead. You swiped at the blood on my chin delicately, like you were afraid I might break if you pushed too hard. Like I was a baby bird who had fallen from his nest. “Maybe I should take you to the nurse.”

“No, please.” I raised my hand and latched onto your wrist, despite how every bone in my body was aching for me to stop. “I... I just want to forget this ever happened.” I hated how vulnerable I sounded.

You looked down at my hand on yours, your lips pressed into a straight line. “Okay.” Your voice was soft and faint. It was soothing. “Okay, I won’t tell anyone. Just, please be careful? I don’t want to see you get hurt anymore.” There was genuine concern in your eyes. It surprised me.

“Thank you,” I breathed out. “Can you please help me to my next class?” I cracked a feeble smile. “I don’t think I can make it on my own.”

You nodded. “Of course.” You gathered your things before grabbing my arm. I grunted as you threw my arm over your shoulders and helped me to stand. You supported me as I limped down the halls, gasping with every step I took.

Later that day, I would get my revenge on Tommy Elliot and beat him up on his doorstep. Alfred would gift me my father’s watch, and I would drop out of Anders Preparatory Academy soon after.

The memory hit me like a freight train, and I sat on the floor of my bedroom, leaning back against the footboard and soaking it all in. I fumbled for my phone in my pocket. I had completely blocked out my encounter with you, but you had wanted so badly for me to remember it. Why? Could it be you weren't as complete and content with your life as you seemed to be?

I dialed your number and held my phone up to my ear. I chewed on my bottom lip as I listened to it ring, growing more anxious by the second. “Hello?” I heard your voice on the other end.

“I remember,” I blurted. “You were there the day Tommy beat me up. You helped me and promised not to tell anyone about what you saw.” I furrowed my brow. “Why did you come to the Towers that night?”

There was a pause, and I could feel the tension eating me up inside. “I had the biggest crush on you when I was younger.” You let out an embarrassed giggle. “I used to follow you around the courtyard before school started, but always stayed at a distance so you wouldn’t see me. I would doodle hearts in my notebook as I stared at the back of your head in math class.” I could hear the smile in your voice. “That day was a couple of months before my dad died. I remember thinking that we had so much in common, that we were so alike,” you reminisced. “I had heard you resurfaced about a couple of months ago. I went to the Towers that night searching for the boy I had developed a serious case of puppy love on when I was younger, but he wasn’t exactly who I found, was he?”

My heart was practically leaping out of my chest. You cared for me. You needed me. Even after all these years, I still mattered to you, and you still wanted me in your life. “I still am that boy, (Y/N),” I insisted. “I can still be that boy, for you.”

“Maybe you were right.” You let out a deep sigh. “Maybe some things are just better forgotten.”

“Please, come with me and my friends tomorrow,” I pleaded. “I promise you’ll have a good time. And if not, I won’t bother you ever again.”

You laughed on the other end, and the sound was like music to my ears. “Okay, Bruce.” Your tone was filled with renewed hope. “I’ll go.”

An uncontrollable smile spread across my face. I had you now. “Great.” I scratched the back of my neck. “Uh, text me your address, and I’ll pick you up tomorrow around ten. Does that sound good?”

“Yep, sounds great.” Pause, and then... “Bruce?”

I perked up. “Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

I cocked my head to the side. “For what?”

“Just... thank you.” You sounded so relieved.

I grinned. “Believe me, gorgeous. The pleasure is all mine.” And soon, you would be too.


	9. More Than Air

This time when I drove to your building in my black Cadillac, I didn’t have to be secretive about it. I parked at the curb, the sound of the door slamming cutting through the sounds of the city. I strut into the lobby, through the glass, double doors in my all black ensemble. I walked straight up to the security guard at the check-in desk, plastering a smile on my face.

“Hi. My name is Bruce Wayne, and I’m here to see (Y/N) (Y/L/N),” I said in a chipper tone.

His eyes widened slightly when he heard my name. “One moment please.” He pulled out a large binder and flipped through it. His finger ran down a page until it stopped on what I guessed was the form you had filled out for me. “Please fill this out, and then I’ll buzz you in.” He slid a clipboard on the desk closer to me.

I picked up the pen that came with it and wrote down my name, the date, and the time. I dropped the pen with a clatter and walked towards a separate turnstile just for guests. I looked at the security guard, and he hit a button behind the desk that emitted a buzzing sound. I pushed through the turnstile with ease and walked towards the elevators.

This time when I rode up to your penthouse, there was a mom and her daughter and some kind of businessman or lawyer in the elevator with me. The man was too involved with his phone to give me notice, but I caught the mother shooting me odd looks every now and then. She must have recognized me. She and her daughter got off on the eighteenth floor, and I ascended a little ways with the man until he stepped off on the thirty-second. The rest of the ride was spent in silence as I leaned back against the elevator with my hands clasped in front of me and a blissful smile on my face, deep in thought as to what our new life would be like together.

The doors finally slid open with a ding, and I walked down the hall to the front door of your penthouse. I knocked a few times, and then I heard your voice from within. “Coming!” your slightly muffled voice called. I heard footsteps approaching the door from inside, and then it swung open on its hinges.

You stood in the doorway, wearing a lace bodysuit and a tight, leather skirt that clung to your curves. Your hair was done, and your face was all made up. “Hi, sorry.” You stepped aside. “I’m running a little bit late. Come on in.” You gestured inside.

I was so mesmerized by your appearance, it took me a second to respond. “You’re okay. I’m a little early anyway.” I chuckled slightly and stepped past the threshold and into your living room. I took a look around like I didn’t have the layout of your home ingrained into my memory. “You have a nice place.”

“Thanks.” You grabbed onto the arm of the couch to steady yourself as you stepped into your suede, thigh-high boots. “I would’ve been fine with one of the apartments downstairs, but my mother insisted.” You laughed, bending over to zip up your shoes. “How was the traffic getting here? Do you still live out of town?”

I ran my hand over the back of the couch as I meandered around. “Yeah, but it was fine.” You lived too far away from me to suit my taste, but that would be solved once you moved into Wayne Manor with me. You could fill the place with so much more joviality than anyone else ever could.

“You know, I wouldn’t have minded just meeting you there.” You grabbed your signature diamond earrings from off of the glass coffee table and put them on.

“I don’t mind. Besides, this whole thing was my idea anyway.” I smiled at you. I also just wanted you to depend on me for a ride so I could take you back to my place at the end of the night, if we even made it that far. I had a lot in store for you.

You smoothed out your skirt with your hands. “Okay, how do I look?” You stood in front of me and stared at me expectantly.

I let my gaze rake freely over your form. “You look gorgeous.” I walked closer to you until I hovered over you. I stared into your eyes. “Absolutely gorgeous.” I lowered my gaze to your cherry red lips. I wanted so badly to kiss you right here, right now. Was that wrong? You covered your mouth as a giggle slipped out, and I pouted. “What? I mean it.”

“I know.” You grabbed your Chanel double flap back off of the couch and slung it over your shoulder. “Okay.”

“Ready?” I quirked a brow at you. You nodded, a small smile on your face. “Let’s go.” I held my hand out to you.

You slid your palm against mine, and tingles shot up my spine at the sensation of your hand once again in mine. You intertwined our fingers, and I led you out of your penthouse and into the elevator. We made small talk as we walked through the lobby hand in hand and out of the front doors. I dug my car keys out of my pocket and hit a button, unlocking the car with an audible click.

“Wow.” You let go of my hand and walked over to my car. “I’m not really a car person, but this is nice.” You ran your hand over the hood of the black Cadillac.

“Thanks. It was my father’s,” I reminisced with a sad smile. I shook it off and opened the door to the passenger’s seat. “My lady.” I bowed at the waist and gestured you inside.

“Why, thank you.” You mimicked a curtsy before ducking inside. I closed the door after you. I ran around to the other side and climbed into the driver’s seat. I turned the key in the ignition and felt the steady thrum of the engine spark to life underneath us. I shifted the gear out of park and slammed down on the gas, turning onto the street.

You turned on the radio, and the tune of some pop song I didn’t recognize flooded the interior of the car. You bobbed your head along to the rhythm softly. I glanced down to see your fingers fidgeting in your lap and your leg bouncing up and down. “Are you nervous?” I asked.

Your head snapped to look at me. “No. Why?” I merely shrugged and gripped the steering wheel. You bit your scarlet-painted lip, and after a second, admitted, “Well, actually... yeah, a little.”

I furrowed my thick brows. “Why are you nervous?”

“Well, I’m meeting your friends tonight, aren’t I?” I hummed in confirmation. “So, what if they don’t like me? You know this whole lifestyle isn’t really my thing.”

“You could’ve fooled me that night at the Towers,” I teased.

You playfully swatted my shoulder, and I ducked to avoid anymore incoming blows. “Hey, that was all an act.”

“I know, I know,” I relented. “But don’t worry. My friends are going to love you. You have no reason to be nervous.” I took one hand off of the steering wheel and rested it on your bare thigh.

You tensed at first under my touch, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw you turn to look at me. I kept my gaze trained on the road in front of me, and you eventually relaxed. I cautiously ran my hand up and down your thigh, weary of how you would react, but you just leaned back in your seat and focused on the music drifting out of the car speakers again. It was so cute how anxious you were to make a good impression on my friends. I wanted to slip my hand up your skirt and finger you as I drove until you were screaming my name and writhing in your seat, but I knew better than to do so now.

I pulled up in front of the Sirens Club and shifted the gear into park. I helped you out of the car and held out my arm to you. You looped your arm through mine, a radiant smile on your face. Your good mood was infectious. I walked past all the people waiting to get into the club like a peacock showing off his feathers. Heads turned to stare at us, but their attention was mainly centered on you. Girls glared at you out of envy, and boys leered at you out of desire. I felt a thousand times more confident with you on my arm, like I was the luckiest man in the world. I don’t think I could handle having you away from me for more than a couple of minutes after this.

I walked right up to the security guard, not flinching when he shifted his intense gaze to me. “Hi, I’m Bruce Wayne, and this is (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” I gestured to you beside me. “We’re looking to get in for the night.”

He burned a hole through me with his cold stare a second longer before he stepped aside, allowing us entryway into the club. I gave him an appreciative nod before moving forward, pulling you along with me. I heard some people in line squawk some complaints behind me and push against the red rope confining them. I stepped inside, and their protests vanished, replaced instead by the smooth music floating through the air of the club.

“Wow. How’d you get us in so fast?” You leaned close to me so I could hear you.

“I know the owners,” I whispered with a smug smirk.

In the center of the club was a large, round bar that almost took up all of the space the wooden floor had to offer. A spotlight shown down on the case of alcohol in the middle, glass bottles of brightly colored liquor lining the shelves. Large, black, tufted booths ran the lengths of the walls, and at the end of the club was a giant floor to ceiling window that offered an exquisite view of Gotham City. You could see everything, from the neon green sign of the Ace Chemicals building to Arkham Asylum out in the distance concealed by a thick layer of fog. The club had a far more sophisticated and classy feel to it than the Towers did, probably because it was considered a safe haven by many for girls who wanted to party. That didn’t stop the occasional douchebag from sneaking his way in and hitting on them, though. They were usually quickly dealt with.

“Hey, Bruce! Over here!” I heard Tommy’s animated tone cut through the noise, and I whipped my head around to spot him. He was sitting in one of the booths with the logo of the club on the wall above him. He had one arm draped around a girl I didn’t recognize and was waving me over with the other.

I looked down at you to see worry etched into the features of your face. I flashed you a reassuring smile, and that seemed to calm your nerves slightly before I brought you over. Tommy abandoned the girl at his side and rose to his feet when we made our way over to him.

“There you are! I was wondering when I was going to see you tonight.” The warm, yellow glow of the lights above cast shadows over his chiseled face. “I had to admit, I was a little confused when you called me and said you didn’t want me to pick you up.”

“Well, I had to go get my date.” I put my hand on the small of your back and gave you a gentle nudge forward. “Tommy, I would like you to meet (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

He locked eyes with you, and his widened in recognition. “Yeah, I remember you! You’re the girl who went to our school that Bruce just couldn’t shut up about.” I felt my cheeks grow hot at his words. “Tommy Elliot. It’s nice to meet you.” He beamed, revealing two rows of bleached white teeth, and extended a large hand out to you.

“Tommy Elliot,” you repeated quietly, and you glanced at me for a second. I could see that your gaze was laced with confusion, probably as to why I was now hanging out with my former bully. “Nice to meet you too.” You faked a smile at him as you took his hand.

I clenched my jaw as I watched you shake hands. Tommy had a wandering eye, and wandering hands, for that matter. “Go ahead, take a seat.” He let go of your hand and gestured to the booth. “We were just about to get the party started.”

I sank into the plush cushions, and you fell beside me. I draped my arm across your shoulder and sidled up to you until you were right against my side. You turned your head and whispered in my ear, “Wasn’t Tommy the one who used to tease you and beat you up?”

I crossed one leg over the other and nodded. “Brant wasn’t the only one seeking forgiveness for his past actions,” was all I said.

“You know Brant used to hang out with him before he started his recovery?” You kept your voice low so he couldn’t hear you, but from the looks of it he was too enthralled with the girls he was chatting up to listen to what you were saying. “Remember the wrong people I said he got mixed up with? He was one of them.”

“Tommy isn’t so bad once you get to know him,” I said under my breath.

“Do I want to get to know him?” You quirked a brow. 

The lights started to strobe in the club, and I could only catch glimpses of the skeptical look on your face every other second. I opened my mouth to answer when a familiar girl with wild hair popped into view. “Bruce,” Selina said, a little taken aback.

_Shit._ I didn’t want her around. She always had a tendency to act catty towards the girls I hung out with. Regardless, I turned to face her, quickly gathering my cool composure. “What’s up?”

You shifted your gaze to her. “Who’s this?” You stood up, smoothing out your skirt before offering a hand to her. “Hi, I’m (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” The smile on your face was genuine. “You must be a friend of Bruce’s?” God, you were always so nice to everyone, even the people who didn’t deserve it. It was an admirable trait, really. A little naive and foolish, but still admirable.

She ignored you and stared straight at me. “Friend is such a strong word.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “And you must be one of the floozies he hangs out with?”

Your expression faltered a little, and you let your arm drop to your side. I shot up and stepped protectively in front of you in an instant. “Leave her alone, Selina.” My tone was low and grave, a warning.

She wrinkled her nose at me and stood down. “Whatever. Just tell your little brat pack here to reel it in a little, or I’ll have to call your keeper.”

I scoffed. “Go ahead. Call Alfred. He won't answer.” I could feel you perk up behind me at my statement.

She furrowed her brow. “Why?”

“’Cause I fired him.” My tone was all smugness and arrogance. “It was time to move on, you know what I’m saying?”

She merely laughed. “Are you sure about that? I’m not buying it.”

My smirk vanished. “Not buying what?”

“This. You.” She gestured to the group and threw a pointed look in your direction. I felt you squirm, and my hands curled into fists at my sides. “Firing Alfred? What are you trying to prove?”

Before I could respond, a scuffle from the bar drew our attention. It looked like two men were sparring over some woman with dark red hair. She looked far too pleased with the altercation, a sly look on her face as she sipped her cocktail. Tabitha Galavan broke up the fight before kicking the woman out. She sashayed past us, waving at Selina as she did so. Her eyes followed the woman as she left, and Barbara Kean walked up to her.

“Who is that woman?” Her voice was sharp. “She seems to know you.”

I chuckled. “Who cares? Redheads. They’re all crazy, am I right?” I elbowed Selina, but she paid me no attention. She muttered something before following after the mystery woman in a daze. I turned to you as soon as she blended in with the crowd of people hogging the bar. “I’m sorry about that.”

“That was a little awkward.” You scratched the back of your neck and smiled sheepishly. “She doesn’t like me, does she?”

“It has nothing to do with you, gorgeous. I promise.” I stepped closer, invading your personal space, but you didn’t seem to mind. I took your hands in mine, my nerve endings sparking to life as my skin made contact with yours. “She had a crush on me for the longest time. Now, she gets jealous of any girl I hang around.”

“I know what that’s like, admiring the billionaire boy Bruce Wayne from afar and never catching his eye. I feel for her.” You bit your bottom lip flirtatiously.

My gaze flickered down to your mouth, and I wanted nothing more than to smear your red lipstick. “I guess I have a lot of lost time to make up for.”

I sat down and pulled you into my lap. A giggle escaped your lips as I pulled your chest flush with mine. I wrapped my arms around your waist, and you draped yours over my shoulders. Our faces were barely an inch apart, your nose brushing against mine. All I had to do was tilt my head a little bit, and then...

“Hey, guys. I’m back with drinks.” You twisted around in my lap to see Grace standing in front of the booth, arms piled with an eclectic selection of cocktails. _Fuck._ “Sorry it took so long. There was a massive line at the bar.” She set all of the glasses down on the table in front of us and looked up. She froze when she saw you perched in my lap, my arms still folded around your waist.

You hopped out of my lap and stood up. “Hi, I’m (Y/N) (Y/L/N). I’m a friend of Bruce’s.” You held your hand out to her with a bright smile on your face. “What’s your name?”

I held my breath as her gaze moved from your outstretched hand to your face. I was sure she would bare her claws and teeth at any moment and tear you to shreds. But instead, she smiled back and grabbed your hand. “Grace Blomdahl.” There was no trace of hostility or animosity in her tone. “It’s nice to meet you.” She let go of your hand. “Sorry, I would’ve gotten you guys drinks if I had known you were coming.”

“That’s all right. I don’t drink anyway.” You shrugged.

Tommy stood up. “Maybe you’d like to try a bit of this instead.” He shook a bag of fine, white powder in your face.

Your lips pressed into a straight line. “Is that...”

“Blow? You betcha.” He opened it up and poured a little bit out on the table. “It’s the good stuff, too. I get it from the best dealer in Gotham.” Some of the girls in our group descended on it with their black cards, chopping it into neat, white lines. Tommy retrieved his wallet and took out a fifty dollar bill. “Go on, (Y/N).” He held it out to you between two of his fingers. “Try it.”

I could see your jaw tick. “No, thanks.”

“Why not?” He sat down and slung his arms over the back cushion of the booth. “You know, I’ve been watching the news. Brant was your stepbrother, right?” His lips curled into a devious smirk. “I remember this was a favorite of his.”

Your eyes started to burn with rage. “Fuck you!” you spat.

“Only if Brucey here would let you do the honors,” he replied in a cool, smooth tone.

I placed a hand on your shoulder. “Why don’t we go get some drinks?” I asked, hoping to alleviate the tension in the room.

“Why don’t you and Tommy do it?” Grace swooped in, looping her arm through yours. “I don’t mind keeping (Y/N) company for a little bit.”

I looked back and forth between you two nervously. “I don’t know...”

“Come on, Bruce.” Tommy got up again and clasped a hand on my shoulder. “Let’s let the girls gossip.”

He dragged me away, my eyes glued to you as we retreated until I couldn’t see you anymore due to the bodies in my way. We strode up to the bar, and it took a second for the bartender to notice us. He came over to us, and I ordered two martinis, one for me, and one for you. He nodded before hurrying off to make our drinks.

“That girl of yours is a little uptight, isn’t she?” Tommy folded his arms over the bar. “I wasn’t kidding when I said I’ve been watching the news. Isn’t she like the fundraising chairman of her family’s corporation now?” I nodded in confirmation. “I have to say, I’m shocked. I thought she was just another party girl. I’m surprised you were able to convince her to come out tonight. This doesn’t really seem like her kind of scene.”

The bartender came back with my drinks, sliding two glasses across the bar to me. The clear liquid almost sloshed over the sides, and the green olives bobbed up and down in the glass. I reached to grab them by their stems when Tommy stopped me.

“Maybe this’ll help her to loosen up.” He dangled a circular white pill above one of the glasses. “What do you say?”

I stared at his hand for a second before pushing it away. Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t above roofying you. I simply didn’t do it because if you did have the gall to deny me, I wanted you to be conscious for everything I was going to do to you.

“(Y/N) isn’t like the other girls I’ve been with, Tommy.” I looked out the large window behind him. “She’s different.”

He sighed. “Suit yourself.” He tucked the roofie back into his pocket. “I just hope you’re not going soft on me.”

I took the drinks back to the booth, Tommy at my side. When we approached, I stopped a couple of feet away when I spotted Grace next to you. She was sitting close to you, her lips right against your ear as she spoke to you in hushed tones. When she noticed me, her eyes went wide and her face turned pale. I watched her lips move as she said something else to you before getting up and scurrying away.

I forced a fake smile on my face as I took the seat Grace had previously occupied. “I’m back.” I pushed one of the glasses into your hand. I leaned my head down to whisper in your ear, “What was she saying to you?”

You gave a shrug of your shoulders. “Nothing important.” But the look on your face said otherwise. You glanced at the glass in your hand hesitantly before taking a tentative sip. You wrinkled your nose and twisted your lips in a sour expression, and I couldn’t help the laugh that escaped my lips. You rolled your eyes at me and knocked your shoulder into my chest playfully.

“I would like to propose a toast!” Tommy drew our party’s attention to him. He grabbed his glass of whiskey and raised it in the air. “To (Y/N),” he jutted his chin out in her direction, “and to hopefully many more outings with her tagging along!”

“To (Y/N)!” A bunch of the girls whooped, clinking glasses. Although I doubt they knew who you were through their drunken haze and merely used it as an excuse to down their drinks.

I slung my arm over your shoulders and tapped my glass against yours with a reverberating click. “To you, gorgeous.” I winked one dark eye at you.

Even though the lights were low, I didn’t miss the blush that crept up your cheeks. We tilted our heads back and took big swigs of our drinks. You slammed your almost empty glass down on the table and shook your head, wincing. I gulped the rest of my drink, my face blank. The burn in my throat didn’t bother me anymore. I found it comforting now.

Tommy slid across the booth closer to us so we could hear him over the pulsating music. “You know, I still remember the first time Bruce hung out with us. Brant had bragged that he could get us into the Towers, but when we got there, they turned us away.” He grinned at the memory, but my pulse started to race. I could tell where this was going. “Did you know that Bruce bought the Towers so that he could let us in and kick Brant out?” He laughed, wiping a tear from his eye. “It was so funny. You should’ve been there to see it.”

Your face fell, and you went slack jawed. “You... what?” You gaped at me.

“Tommy, what the hell?” I hissed at him. I turned to you with a sweet smile on my face. “(Y/N), I...”

You moved out of my grasp. “I... I have to go to the bathroom,” you stammered. You stood up quickly and shoved your way through the crowd, moving away from me as fast as possible.

I got up. “(Y/N), wait!” I called desperately. I chased after you, ignoring the stern glares I received as I pushed through the crowd. You were the only thing I could see in the ocean of boys with slicked back hair and pressed suits and girls with designer dresses and high heels. You looked at me over your shoulder, your eyes wide with fright, before ducking through a door labeled “Women’s Restroom.”

_Right. As if that would stop me._

I pushed through the door without a care in the world. You were all alone, grabbing the edge of the marble sink with white knuckles and staring at yourself in the lit up mirror. Your chest heaved up and down furiously. The open doors of the oak wood stalls confirmed that there was no one in there either. You were completely and utterly alone.

Perfect.

I locked the door with a silent click behind me before making my presence known. Your head snapped to look at me, your eyes even wider than before. “Bruce?” Your voice was shaky and unstable. “What are you doing in here?”

My face softened. “(Y/N), please. Just listen to me.” I rushed towards you.

You held your hands out in front of you, stopping me before I could get too close, and squinted your eyes. “Please, just leave me alone. I can’t think. There’s a lot going on, and...” You glanced back at yourself in the mirror, going cross-eyed for a second. “The world is spinning.”

You wobbled in your heels and started to topple over. “Woah, woah, woah.” I grabbed you by the elbow, steadying you. “Hey, hey. There, there. It’s okay. I got you.” I leaned you up against the white tiled wall. I smiled at you. “You don’t happen to be drinking on an empty stomach, do you?”

You grabbed onto my shoulders. “I... I was so nervous. I couldn’t eat anything. I didn’t expect to be drinking.”

I pushed a strand of hair out of your face. “You must be a lightweight.” My smile widened. “It’s cute.”

You swatted my hand away. “Hey, stop it.” You pouted. “I’m supposed to be mad at you.”

“Look, I don’t know what Grace said to you, but it was total bullshit.”

“She said... she told me to be careful.” Your gaze kept going in and out of focus. “She said you manipulated a lot of girls before me, her included, and she didn’t want to see the same thing happen to me.”

I scoffed. “God, can’t you see? She’s jealous!” I cupped your face in my hands so you were forced to look at me. “She’s jealous that I chose you over her, and now she’s trying to scare you away.”

You furrowed your brow. “But... Brant...”

“Was a long time ago,” I finished for you. If you weren’t so buzzed, you could probably hear the desperation in my voice. “You are the only girl for me, gorgeous.” I stared deep into your eyes. “I would do anything for you. Absolutely anything.”

A giggle left your lips. “You’re ridiculous.”

“But like it or not, I’m yours.” My gaze once more flickered to your lips, and this time, there was nothing holding me back.

I leaned in and heard your breath hitch. I kept going until my lips made contact with yours. You froze at first, but then your eyes fluttered closed, your body relaxing into mine. I moved my lips against yours, warmth flooding my veins and filling every inch of my body. Your lips were smooth and soft. They felt like they had been molded to perfectly fit mine. Your fingers wrapped around the lapels of my blazer, pulling me closer to you, and I ran my tongue across your bottom lip. Your lips parted, and I slipped my tongue into your mouth, tasting the gin on your tongue. Kissing you was perfect, and passionate, and absolutely intoxicating. Once I started, I didn’t think I would be able to stop.

I lowered my hands to rest one on your waist and the other on your thigh. I began to snake it up your skirt, pushing the hem of the fabric up your thigh. You tensed against me and pushed my hand away. The other one shoved me back by my shoulder. “We’ve... both been drinking a lot,” you managed between intakes of breath, giving me a weak smile.

I hummed, my eyes darkening. I pressed you back against the wall and dove for your neck. I nipped at the sensitive skin as my hand slipped up your skirt again. It rested on your hip, and I could feel the lacy material of the panties you were wearing. I grunted as I started to grow hard at the thought of you wearing lingerie just for me. I attached my lips to your throat, sucking on your scorching hot skin, as I rutted my hips against yours.

You latched onto my shoulders and pushed down. “Bruce... We should stop...” I swirled my tongue over the blue and purple bruise blossoming on your flesh, and you let out an involuntary squeak.

“Are you sure you want to stop?” My voice was heavy with lust. I grabbed your thigh and lifted your leg so I could grind my pelvis against yours at a better angle.

“Yes, Bruce, stop.” There was no waver in your voice now. You squirmed in my grip, and I held onto you tighter. “Let go of me!” You sounded strained.

I growled and hooked a thumb under the elastic band of your underwear, dragging it over your hip. You shoved me back as hard as you possibly could, and although I only stumbled back a step, there was enough space for you to slip out from between me and the wall. You dashed for the door and yanked on the handle. Finding it locked, you reached for the lock and undid it. However, the time that it took you to unlock the door was enough for me to be on you again. I clutched your elbow and tugged you back. You yelped as I flung you onto the sink, throwing you off balance, and smashed my lips against yours again. You tried to scream, but my mouth on yours swallowed any sounds you attempted to make. I moaned against your lips, shoving your skirt up your thighs. In this second, I needed you more than anything else. More than I needed air.

Suddenly, something collided with the side of my head. My brain crashed against my skull, and my eyesight went fuzzy. Gray, blurry dots danced across my vision, and I staggered backwards. The ringing in my ears sounded like static, but slowly, it subsided. I blinked rapidly to clear my hazy vision. I was staring at the ground, at a metal soap dispenser laying haphazardly discarded on the white tile, bubbly, pink soap dripping out of the nozzle and onto the floor. I looked up to see you already at the door, your hand hovering over the handle. You were staring at me with wide eyes, and there was something in them that I hadn’t noticed before.

Panic... Terror... Horror... Fear...

Even though I was still discombobulated, I smirked at you. _What a rush._

You ran out the door without looking back, and I let you go. I had to say, you had been quite commendable. I didn’t think many girls could put up quite a fight in your condition, let alone escape from me. That was definitely something to see.

I reached up and touched my head where you had hit me. No blood, but a nasty bump. There was a possibility you had given me a concussion, but I doubted it. I didn’t know if it was due to the blow to the head or what, but it felt like something had rattled inside my brain and come loose. Like something had snapped within me, and now there was no going back. I let you go this time, but next time, you wouldn’t be so lucky.

Next time, I would never let you go ever again.


	10. This is Not an Exit

I left the bathroom when a trio of girls walked in giggling. They stopped in their tracks when they saw me, their smiles disappearing from their faces and glares replacing the lighthearted looks in their eyes. I rolled my eyes and pushed past them without a word, straightening my blazer as I returned to the club. You were no where to be found, and I assumed you had called a taxi or your town car to take you home. I ducked out of the club. I didn’t want Tommy pestering me about the sweltering knot forming on my head or where you had gone to. This way, he could just conclude that me and you had left early to go back to my place together.

You didn’t tell anyone of our little encounter in the bathroom. Not your friends, not your mom, not the cops. I figured it was because you knew it was of no use, and for that, you were a very smart girl. I had the GCPD in my pocket, and who would believe you if you tried to claim that billionaire Bruce Wayne had attempted to rape you with absolutely no proof?

I waited until it was dark out. Night slipped over the city like a curtain that had been pulled over a window. It blocked out all light, plunging the city into inky blackness. There were no stars in the sky; only heavy, gray clouds that foreboded something sinister. The air was thick with tension and crackled with electricity, like one spark was all it would take for a bolt of lightning to split the sky open. A storm was brewing, but I didn’t think anyone in Gotham saw it coming. Certainly not you.

But I did. I would be the one to set it into motion.

I observed you on my iPad for a long time. Eventually, you left with a purse slung over your shoulder and your Jimmy Choos clicking against the wooden floor. It was then I decided to strike. I drove in my Cadillac and used my fake apartment pass to get through the turnstile. I didn’t want there to be a single trace that I had been here tonight. I rode the elevator up and picked the lock on your door, as normal. Your penthouse looked generally the same. Nothing out of place, everything neat and tidy and spotless.

Something on the kitchen counter caught my eye. Pushed far away in the very corner was a block of culinary knives. I walked over to it and tugged on my black, leather gloves before pulling one out. The sound the knife made as I unsheathed it was pleasing to my ears. I held it up so it caught the white light of the moon streaming in through the windows. The sharp curve of the stainless steel looked like it glowed as it reflected the light. The smooth handle felt cold and good in my grip. It looked untouched, which made sense, because I doubt you had time to cook for yourself. You were always rushing from place to place. The knife reminded me of the blade I had used all those months ago when I had killed Ra’s. I briefly thought about what it would be like to slide this one along your flesh, making little incisions and watching the blood drip out of them like ichor.

I heard a key turning in the lock, and I pressed myself against the cabinets. I lurked in the shadows as I watched you step into the penthouse, closing and locking the door behind you. I stared at you with a predatory gaze, licking my lips, as you kicked off your heels and dropped your bag carelessly to the floor. You raked your hands through your hair and let out a shaky breath. You always looked so tired and exhausted these days. When I take care of you, I’ll make sure you never feel this exasperated ever again.

I waited until you were far enough away from the door so you couldn’t slip out without me getting to you first. Then, I stepped out of the shadows. “Hello, gorgeous.”

Your head snapped in my direction, and when you realized it was me, your eyes went round with fear, just as I had expected they would. Perfect. “Bruce? What... what are you doing here?” You were already stuttering. “How did you get into my penthouse?”

“Easy. I picked the lock.” I leaned my shoulder against the wall and inspected the tip of the knife I still held in my hand. “Pretty simple. You need better security, gorgeous.”

You stood frozen, your muscles seizing up with terror as you spied the knife in my hand. It was like your feet were glued to the floor. “What are you doing with that?”

“Oh, this?” I raised it. “I’m hoping I won’t have to use this.” I traced the curved edge with the tip of my gloved finger, my lips curling into a smirk. “But I don’t think I’ll have to. I have other ways of making you do what I want.”

“Just... put it down.” You attempted to remain calm. “We can talk. You don’t have to hurt anyone.”

My lips twisted into a frown. I didn’t like how composed and levelheaded you were being, how much you were trying to keep it together. I would much rather watch you splinter and crack under the pressure, watch your blood boil and your temper rage. I wanted to see you scream and fight and try to claw your way out of my grasp. It would be much more entertaining. This was just... pathetic.

I chuckled, dark and low. You twitched as the sound reverberated off of the tall walls. “You think I came here to talk?” I chose that moment to start closing the distance between us, taking a step forward. “You think I broke into your penthouse at night, grabbed a knife, and waited to get you all by yourself just so we could have an open, friendly discussion?” I was right in front of you now, within arm’s reach. “No, you’re much too smart a girl for that. You know what I want.”

I could see the fear in your eyes, but it was laced with something. Defiance, perhaps. Maybe bravery. Though any bravery you could have at this point was a foolish attempt at denial. “Why don’t you tell me then?”

I placed the blade flat under your chin, tilting your head up to meet my gaze. “I want you.” You swallowed roughly, the tip of the knife inching closer to piercing your skin. “All I ever wanted to begin with was you. You just had to make everything so goddamn difficult.”

You noticed I was advancing on you and took a hesitant step back. “I’m not yours, Bruce. I don’t belong to you.” You furrowed your brow, and I could see the fire flaring within. “I’m not some piece of property that you can come and stake your claim on.”

I dropped the arm holding the knife to my side. “Oh, I knew you would say that. It became pretty apparent to me after our last run-in that if I wanted you, I would have to take you by force.” My footsteps echoed as I stalked towards you, running the knife over the back of the white, leather couch. “I’ve done a lot of bad things in the past couple of weeks. I wasn’t too proud of them at first, but now I see they were all necessary. Everything that I’ve done, I’ve done so that I could have you.”

Your face contorted with apprehension and horror. “What did you do?” You backed up until your shoulders hit the wall behind you. “Please, Bruce, tell me. What did you do?”

“Well, I followed you around town, snuck into your penthouse a few times, stole a pair of panties, bugged the place,” I gestured vaguely to the cameras I had stashed around your home, “got rid of someone who was in my way.” I flicked the tip of the knife with my gloved fingers.

The bottom fell out from under you. “Oh, my God.” Your knees buckled, and if it weren’t for the wall behind you, you would’ve fallen to the floor. “You killed Brant.” You clasped a hand over your mouth, your eyes brimming with tears.

“You know, it’s funny. I thought he was your boyfriend!” I laughed as I waved the knife in the air. “I beat myself up about it, but then I realized he was just another charity case wasting your time. He was holding you back; they all were. All you’re meant to do is be with me.” I pointed the knife at my chest as I finished my statement.

You shook your head. “You’re crazy.” Your whole body was trembling. “You’re insane.”

My smile vanished from my face. “Don’t you see, gorgeous?” I held my arms wide open in supplication. “I’m in love with you.”

“Your sick obsession with manipulating girls isn’t love, Bruce,” you seethed through gritted teeth, tears falling down your cheeks.

“Oh, gorgeous, there isn’t anyone else.” I walked forward until you were trapped between me and the wall. “You’re the only one I would go to this great a length for.” I reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “You’re the only one I want.”

You jabbed your finger in the direction of the door. “Get out!” you hissed. “Get out before I call the cops!”

I shook my head at you, laughing. “We both know you’re not calling the cops.” My grip on the handle of the knife tightened until my knuckles turned white.

You pressed both of your hands against my shoulders and shoved me back far enough so you could slide out from between me and the wall. You were quick running over to the door, I had to admit, but I was quicker. Your fingertips just barely grazed the doorknob before I latched onto your arm. I yanked you backwards, and an earsplitting shriek erupted from your throat.

“Go ahead, scream. We both know that no one will hear you. There’s no one coming for you.” I dragged you backwards. You thrashed against me, digging your heels into the floor to try and stop me, but it was of no use. I was stronger. “There’s no escape, no exit, no way out. There’s only me.”

I scooped you up in my arms and threw you onto the couch. You barely had time to push yourself up on the cushions before I was on top of you. I enveloped your body with mine, and you went into fight mode. You scratched at me with your nails and kicked me with your bare feet. I easily overpowered you and pinned you back against the couch.

“Fine,” I sighed, “if that’s how you’re going to be, then I’ll have to restrain you.”

I flipped you over so you were laying on your stomach. I pinned your legs down with my knees and wrenched your arms behind your back. I held your wrists in one hand as I reached for my belt buckle with the other. You screamed at the top of your lungs and sobbed until your face was blotchy. I would have found it annoying if I didn’t enjoy it so much. You wriggled your hips as you tried to get away from me and ended up brushing your ass against my growing erection. I growled and made quick work of my belt.

“Be patient, gorgeous. I’ll give you everything you want.” I wrapped my belt around your wrists and secured it in placed. I turned you back over so you were lying flat on your back. I crashed my lips against yours. The kiss was a mix of teeth and lips and tongue, but it was hot and fiery with passion. I could taste the salt from your tears on my tongue, and as it slipped into your mouth, you bit down.

Your teeth sunk into my tongue as an act of rebellion, and I cried out. I pulled back, the tang of metal flooding my mouth, and narrowed my eyes at you. You stilled underneath me when I pressed the tip of the knife against your collarbone. You held your breath as I traced gentle circles over your skin. I imagined what it would be like to press down just a little more and draw blood, to hear your voice rise with panic as your blood trickled out of the wound like strawberry lemonade. But I couldn’t, at least not now. I didn’t want to leave any blood behind for anyone to find.

Instead, I dragged the blade down your body until I reached the hem of the dress you were wearing. I tore your dress up the middle with a deafening rip until it fell away, revealing your exposed breasts and the lacy thong you were wearing. I could feel my cock twitching in my pants as my gaze raked over your form. I tossed the knife to the floor with a metallic clang. Your breath hitched in your throat as I cupped your breast in one hand. I stared, fascinated, as I started softly kneading the flesh. I wish I could feel your warm skin against my bare hand, but I was too afraid of leaving fingerprints all over your penthouse.

“I can make it feel good for you, you know.” I ran my thumb over your hardening peak and appreciated the blush that crept up your cheeks. “This can be just as much for your pleasure as it is for mine.” I tweaked your nipple, grinning as it earned a yip from you.

I moved my hands down your body to the underwear concealing the region between your legs. I hooked my thumbs under the elastic band and let it snap back against your skin. You jolted, and I snickered at your reaction. I grabbed your underwear again and pulled it down your legs.

“No, please!” You squirmed. “Don’t do this!”

I brought your panties to my nose and inhaled your scent. I could smell your arousal clinging to the article of clothing. “Are you sure about that, gorgeous?” I easily took hold of your flailing legs, halting your movements. “Are you sure you don’t want this as much as I do?”

“No!” You tried to sit up, but with your arms tied behind your back, it was impossible. “Let me go, you sadistic fuck!”

I laughed again and spread your legs for me. I gazed down at your pink slit, glistening with slick. “You’re so pretty.” I settled my head between your thighs. “Let’s see if you taste just as good.”

I stuck my tongue out and licked a stripe up the length of your pussy. A shudder ran through you, and you bit your bottom lip to keep your noises of pleasure in. You bucked your hips, though whether it was to get away from me or out of want, I couldn’t tell. Either way, I grabbed your hips and held you still. I swiped my tongue through your folds, groaning as your juices coated my tastebuds. The taste of you was more addictive than anything I had ever known. I curled my tongue around your clit, and your shouts of pain slowly morphed into needy mewls. I took your clit into my mouth and sucked, listening as breathy moans spilled from your lips.

I let it go with an obscene pop and pulled away from your pussy. “You taste so good, gorgeous.” I brought two gloved fingers to your entrance and traced light circles. “Do you think you can cum on my fingers for me?”

Somewhere, through your aroused state, the wheels in your brain were still turning. “Stop! This isn’t what I...” You trailed off as I pushed my fingers into you. Your brow furrowed as your cunt stretched to accommodate my fingers, but when I wrapped my lips around your clit, you relaxed around me. I pumped my fingers into you at the same pace I licked your clit, and I could feel your walls tensing. Your pussy clenched around my fingers as you came, and you threw your head back, a high-pitched moan escaping your throat. I took my fingers out of you and lapped up your juices like I was starving as you came down from your high.

I sat back on my heels and stared down at your ruined form. Your body was flushed shades of red and coated in a thin sheen of sweat. Your chest heaved up and down, and tears slipped down your cheeks as embarrassment creeped in at the reality of what you had just done. What I had just made you do. My cock was painfully restrained against the confines of my pants at this point. I needed to be inside of you, buried deep inside of you, at this very moment.

“I want to fuck you,” I leaned over you and pushed some sweaty strands of hair out of your face, “but not here.” I stood up and threw your naked body over my shoulder. “Let’s go to your room.”

You began protesting again as I carried you up the stairs to the second floor of your penthouse. “No!” you yelled, kicking your legs. “Please, stop!”

I raised a hand and swatted your ass with an audible smack. You fell silent, and I could feel wet dots staining the back of my shirt from your tears. I swung the door to your bedroom open and crossed the distance to your bed in a couple of steps. I tossed you onto the bed, your body bouncing on the mattress. I pounced on top of you, reaching for the zipper of my pants and pulling it down. You stared in fright as I pushed my pants and boxers over my hips in one fell swoop, freeing my hard cock. I ran my hand up and down my length as I kneed your legs apart. Your thighs were still slick from the orgasm I had just given you.

“You don’t know how long I’ve waited for this moment, gorgeous.” I lined up with your entrance. “This is everything I’ve ever dreamed of. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted.”

You cried as I pushed into you. You were wet enough that I was able to get in halfway before your walls tightened around me. “God, you’re soaked.” I pulled back only to thrust in again. This time, your pussy gave way, and I buried myself to the hilt in you. “I wonder would it would be like to go in dry.” I snapped my hips against yours, earning a squeak from you. “I guess we’ll have to try that next time.”

Your eyes widened with terror at the prospect of a next time. My lips curled into a smirk as I set a rough pace. You still didn’t know what you were in for, did you? I lifted your leg so I pounded into you at a deeper angle, hitting all the right spots in you. “Fuck, you feel so good,” I groaned. The way your pussy felt around my cock as I sheathed myself inside of you was just so perfect, so utterly, inarguably right. “You were meant for me, meant for me to take you like this,” I managed between grunts.

You were at a loss for words. All you could do was stare up at me, your eyes frozen wide with dread and your lips parted. I anchored myself on my hand pressed into the mattress beside you and fell into a trance as I watched your tits bounce as I fucked you. The sounds of the bed springs complaining and skin slapping against skin filled my ears, and the air smelled like sweat and sex and your shampoo and whatever expensive perfume you had sprayed on yourself before you had left your penthouse. It was completely intoxicating, and I lost myself in it.

“Are you still going to deny it to yourself, gorgeous?” Beads of perspiration rolled down my brow. “Or are you going to admit that you need me just as much as I need you?”

You squeezed your eyes shut before opening them again. “Never...” Your voice sounded strained.

I drew my thick brows together, and the corners of my mouth tugged downwards into a frown. This time, you didn’t look away from me, your eyes burning with unrelenting fury and pride. Pride that you had caused me the tiniest bit of dissatisfaction. Your gaze scalded me, and I decided that you looked far too pleased and comfortable for my liking. I took it upon myself to change that.

I wrapped my fingers around your throat and squeezed down. The triumphant look in your eyes quickly faded away, replaced with panic instead. Your lips opened and closed like a fish out of water as you gasped for air. Your breathing was short and shallow. I barred my teeth as I rammed into you, using just enough strength to restrict your airway without killing you. I could feel the knot twisting in my gut starting to unravel.

“You’re mine!” My voice was a low, deadly rumble like thunder in a storm, a harbinger of what’s to come. “No one else can have you!”

I leaned down and sank my teeth into the flesh around your clavicle. You let out a piercing shriek, and I felt your walls flutter around me. Your pussy constricted my cock as you came, triggering my own orgasm. My hips stalled as I painted your walls with my seed. I gave one more squeeze to your throat, and your body went limp underneath me as you fell unconscious.

I pumped into you a few more times, slowing down my pace, to make sure I had gotten all of my cum out. Then, I pulled out of you and detached my teeth from your collarbone. I looked down to see ruby red blood springing from the bite mark I had made in your flesh. It started to trickle down your skin in zig zag patterns, and before it could stain the white sheets, my tongue was on you. I drank all of the sweet, savory drops dribbling out of the wound like I was drinking from the fountain of youth itself. I ran my tongue over the pulse on your neck. It was weak and faint, but it was there, and I could feel all the fresh blood pumping through your veins. I wanted to bite you again, to spring a leak and drain you until I was bathed in red, but I stopped myself.

When the bite on your clavicle stopped bleeding, I leaned back, taking in your unconscious form beneath me. Your eyes were half open and glazed over. Your breathing was slow, but even. I swiped my mouth with the back of my hand, and looked down to see your blood staining my skin. I stared, enchanted, at the contrast of the crimson hue against my pale skin. It brought out my own blue and purple veins lining my flesh, pushing blood. Red. It was so much more than that to me now.

You were so much more to me now.


	11. Cross My Heart

# Act Two: Violent Ends

Your hair fanned out around your head like a halo. Your face was turned slightly to the side, burying it in the pillow your pretty head rested on. A dusting of rose colored your cheeks, and your lashes brushed against your cheekbones. Your chest rose and fell evenly with each deep, sleepy breath. You seemed to be in a peaceful sleep, as if I hadn’t choked you until you had passed out. You looked like an angel, my very own angel lying in the middle of my bed. Pure, innocent, naive.

I couldn’t wait to corrupt you.

Of course, the only things that disrupted the illusion were the ropes binding your wrists and ankles together and the ball gag in your mouth. But besides that, you looked like sleeping beauty waiting for her prince charming to wake her up. And I was right here sitting at the end of the bed, bouncing my leg up and down and tapping my fingers on my knee. My hands itched to touch you, to run over your unconscious body, but I resisted the urge. For now, anyway.

The first sign you were coming to was the slow stirring of your body. You twitched and tried to stretch against your restraints. Your eyes fluttered open, clouded and hazy from being out for so long. You blinked rapidly against the light streaming in through the window in my bedroom. The look in your eyes sharpened as you put the pieces of your mind together. You started to writhe on the bed, any noises you made muffled by the ball gag strapped around your head.

“Good morning, gorgeous,” I purred.

You lifted your head just enough to see me sitting not more than a foot away from you. Your eyes became glossy with fear, and you tugged desperately against your restraints. You whined and cried against the ball gag, saliva leaking out of the sides of your mouth and dripping off your chin. You rocked yourself to sit up and scooted back away from me on the bed as far as possible until your back was pressed against the headboard.

“I’m sorry about the rope and the ball gag. I didn’t want you to freak and do something irrational when you woke up.” I crawled towards you, the bed squeaking under my weight. “However, I do think we need to get a couple of things straight, so I’ll take it out so you can talk, okay?”

You nodded too eagerly, as I had expected you would. I reached around the back of your head, and you leaned forward so I had easier access to the strap attaching the ball gag to you. I undid the strap and slowly took the ball gag out of your mouth. You didn't do anything for a second, merely just staring at me. I swiped the spit off of the corners of your mouth with my thumb and stuck the appendage in my mouth. Your saliva reminded me of the first time we had kissed in the bathroom at the Sirens Club and how addicting your taste was.

You grimaced, wrinkling your nose in disgust. Then, you wet your lips before eliciting an ear-splitting shriek. “Help me!” you screamed at the top of your lungs. “Please, somebody help me!”

I chuckled, the sound deafening over your pleading cries. “Scream all you want, gorgeous. There’s no one around for miles. It’s just you and me.”

You pulled your legs up to your chest. “Where did you take me? Some murder cabin in the middle of the woods?” you sneered.

“Try Wayne Manor.” I folded one leg under the other. “We have the place all to ourselves, and there’s acres in between this estate and the next one.”

You didn’t take your eyes off of me for a second, like you were afraid of what I might do if you did. “Why?”

“I already told you why, gorgeous.” I gave you a teasing smile. “You belong to me, but no matter how hard I tried to prove it to you, you just didn’t seem to get the message. So, I thought the only way to get it through that stubborn skull of yours was to isolate you for a little while.”

“People will come looking for me.” You narrowed your eyes at me. “They’ll know I’ve gone missing and catch you redhanded, you sicko!”

“Oh, I know they’ll be looking for you. That’s why I’ve been very busy in the twelve hours you were unconscious, gorgeous.” I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stood up. I walked over to the corner of my bedroom. “After, I tidied up your penthouse, I packed you a few things.” I held up a Louis Vuitton suitcase I had found in your closet filled with some random stuff I had thrown in. “Then, I bought you a plane ticket and sent Mom a text saying you were taking an impromptu trip to Paris to relax and take your mind off of Brant.”

I took your phone out of my pocket and held it up for you to see. Then, I dropped it to the ground with an earth-shattering crack. I lifted my foot and crushed it under the thick sole of my shoe, smashing it to a thousand glass pieces. I didn’t need anyone tracking your phone back here in the case someone did get suspicious and decide to snoop around.

Your whole body was vibrating with rage at this point. You clenched your jaw so hard, the veins in your neck protruded from your skin. “You bastard!” you screeched so loud, your voice shook the walls. “You fucking psychopath!”

All I could do was smile and laugh at your reaction. Seeing you so passionate and so vehement made my heart burst inside my chest with warmth. Indifference wasn’t something to be trifled with, but anger? Anger was just on the tipping point of unadulterated affection. There was a fine line between love and hate, and I intended on making you cross it.

“Psychopath? That’s a big word.” I gazed at you, lovesick and adoring. “But I have to admit, I am crazy in love with you.”

Your nostrils flared as you tried to contain your fury. “You stalked me, broke into my home, _killed my brother,_ violated me, raped me, and then kidnapped me against my will. That’s not love, you piece of shit!”

“I know it’ll take a while for you to understand, but now we have all the time in the world.” I pressed my hands to my heart and locked eyes with you, my expression turning serious. “And I want you to know that when you come to your senses, I forgive you for all the cruel things you’re saying to me right now.”

You stared at me like a second head had sprouted out from my neck. You eventually tore your gaze away from me, and instead the mirror above my dresser caught your attention. Your breath hitched in your throat when you took in your reflection. Your chest racked with sobs as your eyes flitted over the blue and purple bruise forming on your neck in the shape of a handprint. Tears pricked your eyes when you noticed the bite mark on your neck. It was healed now, but the skin where each of my teeth had punctured your flesh was tender and raw. It would mostly likely scar. Those were the only injuries you had sustained. The rest of you was untouched and unmarred, like a sheet of paper or a blank canvas. And it was mine to do whatever I pleased with.

“Oh, I hope you don’t mind I took the liberty of dressing you. As you might remember, your other dress wasn’t exactly wearable anymore.” I clasped my hands behind my back and stalked closer to you.

You looked down, and only then did you realize you weren’t wearing anything of your own. I had put you in a white babydoll dress of chiffon and lace. The thin straps clung to your shoulders, and the low neckline accentuated your prominent cleavage. The hem of the full skirt just barely reached your mid thigh, and the sheer fabric exposed everything you had to offer underneath. I didn’t put any undergarments on you. There was no need to when I was around.

I reached over and picked up a glass of water off of the nightstand next to my bed. “Are you thirsty?” I asked softly. I sank into the mattress next to you and held the water up to your lips. “Here, have a sip.”

You didn’t open your mouth. You stayed completely still, your eyes trained on me.

“C’mon, gorgeous. I know you must be thirsty. Please drink, for me?” I pleaded, batting my lashes at you. When you still didn’t respond, my smile faltered, and I grabbed your chin roughly with my hand. I squeezed until your lips were forcefully parted. “Drink,” I hissed and poured the water into your mouth.

Your eyes bulged, and you gurgled defiantly. When you had had enough, water spilled out of your mouth and dribbled your chin. Drops ran down your neck and wet the bedsheets. I set the half empty glass down and used the corner of the sheets to wipe away the excess water.

“There, isn’t that better?” I used my sugarcoated tone again. “Now, it’s time to take your pill.” I picked up a tiny, white, circular pill off of the nightstand.

You leaned as far away from me as you could. “What is it?” you asked fearfully.

I inspected the little pill in between my pointer finger and my thumb. “It’s just birth control.” The expression on your face was a mix of confusion and terror and awareness. It amused me. “What? You didn’t think I wanted to get you pregnant, did you?” I laughed. “I don’t like using condoms, and I love you, gorgeous, but we’re a little too young. We’re not ready to raise a child. Well, not yet anyway. That day will come eventually.”

A shiver ran through you at my statement. “How do I know you’re telling the truth?” You turned your head away from me.

“Would I lie to you, gorgeous?” Though, the way you suspiciously eyed me said I would. I hovered my hand over your face. “Now, open up.”

With a defiant glint in your eye, you parted your lips for me. I placed the pill on your tongue, and you swallowed roughly. You were more willing to chase it with water this time. I guessed you weren’t so fond of the idea of getting pregnant by me either.

“Good girl.” I smoothed your hair down lovingly with my hand, and you flinched under my touch. I retracted my hand and stood up. _We’ll work on that._ “Now, one more thing before I untie you.”

You perked up at the prospect of being untied. I walked over to the dresser and pulled open the top drawer. I took something out and closed the drawer. I turned around to face you, hiding it behind my back, and I noticed your forehead crease with worry.

“Do you know what this is?” I revealed the object to you. It was a thick, black leather collar with metal letters spelling out ‘Mr. Wayne’s’ on it in all caps. You shook your head. “This is a shock collar.” I walked closer to you, dangling it from my fingers. “It will ensure that you don’t try to escape. Come within even five feet of the brick wall surrounding this estate, and it will deliver a bolt of electricity stronger than a taser that will impair your motor cortex for up to three hours.”

“Like... like a dog and one of those invisible fence things?” Your voice wavered.

“Yes, exactly like that, but much worse.” I smirked before reaching for you.

You shied away from me. “Please, please don’t make me put it on,” you begged.

I frowned. “I’m sorry, gorgeous, but I have to. I want you to be able to roam around the manor freely, but I don’t want you getting any ideas about leaving me. But I promise I’ll untie you once I get it on.” I placed my hand on my chest. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

You remained silent, but when I reached for you this time, you didn’t stop me. You let me spin you around, and I kneeled on the mattress behind you. I pushed your hair out of the way and put the collar around your neck. I clicked it into place and leaned back on my heels, admiring my work. You rolled your neck, awkwardly adjusting to the way the collar hugged your throat just a little too tightly. I smiled.

“And don’t bother trying to take it off. The only way you can take it off is with this.” I yanked on the ends of your hair to make you look at me. You let out a yelp and spun around. I raised the small magnet hanging off of a chain around my neck. “Now, I promised to untie you, and you’ll find that I always keep my promises.”

I kneeled down in front of you and tugged at the ropes around your ankles. You lifted your feet to assist me, and I loosened the knots. The rope fell slack around your ankles, and you slid your feet out of the constraints. I stood up and leaned over you, grabbing onto the rope on your wrists. I gritted my teeth as I fiddled with the knots.

“Damn, these knots are strong,” I muttered as I pulled on the rope. “I did a good job tying them.”

I managed to untie them and threw them over my shoulder. I stood up, wiping my hands on my slacks. You rubbed at your sore wrists and rolled out your ankles, the skin where the rope had dug into them red and irritated. You looked up at me, and in a flash, you threw all your body weight at me with a piercing scream.

I fell to the wooden floor with a hard thud, knocking the air in my lungs out of me. You pounced on top of me, aiming at my eyes with your sharp nails. I wheezed before gathering my strength and grabbed your wrists. I rolled onto my side and took you with me, flipping us over so I was the one crushing you instead. Your eyes went wide with shock as I easily pinned your hands above your head, a sly smirk spreading across my face.

“Good to know you’ve still got some fight left in you. I’d hate to see it leave so soon.” I bucked my hips against yours, rubbing my hardening cock over the skirt covering your core. “Keep resisting me, gorgeous. It turns me on.”

Tears threatened to spill from the corners of your eyes. “No, please.”

I stared at you for a moment longer. The pitiful expression on your face only filled me with want that much more. I snarled before pushing myself off of you. I held out a hand to you, and you hesitated before taking it. I pulled you up to your feet, and you pulled on the hem of your skirt, willing it down.

“Unfortunately, I didn’t have time while you were out to wash you, so you’ll have to do that on your own.” I pointed to a door leading to a room attached to my bedroom. “The bathroom’s just right through there.”

You lowered your head and started in the direction I had gestured to. You just barely passed me when I clamped a hand down on your shoulder. You stopped in your tracks and looked up at me expectantly.

“Give me the dress.” I let go of your shoulder and held my hand out to you. Your eyes grew to the size of saucers, and you glued your arms to your sides. “C’mon, gorgeous. I need something to think about while you’re in the shower.” I winked one dark eye at you.

You lowered your gaze to the wooden floorboards as you gripped the hem of the dress, your knuckles turning white. You slowly pulled it over your head, exposing your bare body to me, and put the discarded dress in my hand. My intense gaze raked over you, from the perfect swell of your breasts to the region between your legs. Your eyes didn’t leave the grain of the wood. I wanted to reach out and touch you, to feel if you were wet for me, but I held back.

“I might need a shower later myself. A cold one, at that.” I leered at you a second longer before shoving your shoulder, taking you by surprise. You stumbled back and finally lifted your head to look at me. “Go, get washed up.”

You scrambled over to the door and pulled it open. You stepped inside and closed it behind you with a resounding bang. I’d have to teach you not to slam doors later. I sat back on the edge of the bed with a huff. It felt like all of the warmth had been drained from the room as soon as you had left. I stared down at the dress in my hands. I didn’t know how I liked you better: with it on or off.

My ears pricked up when I heard the water start in the bathroom. I could just imagine you standing under the stream of water, your hands moving all over your body. I wondered if you would touch yourself while thinking of me, if having me on top of you for a brief moment was enough to get you going to. I cursed under my breath as I felt my erect cock straining against the confines of my pants. I didn’t think my hand was going to be enough to satisfy me anymore.

I pushed myself off of the bed and pulled my sweatshirt off by the back of my collar. I reached for the buckle on my belt and undid it as I kicked off my shoes. I toed my socks off as I pushed my boxers and slacks down, the fabric pooling around my ankles. I stepped out of it and walked towards the door to the bathroom. I gripped the doorknob and slowly twisted it, pushing the door open as quietly as possible. I creeped inside, trying not to make any noise that could alert you to my presence.

The mirror was all fogged up from the hot shower you were taking. Water ran down the glass of the walk-in shower, obscuring your form until it was just a mess of blurry color. I licked my lips before inching closer to you on my tiptoes. I reached out and slid the door to the shower open, a puddle of water forming at my feet as some from the shower head hit the floor.

Your head snapped to look at me, and your eyes widened. “No.” You pressed yourself up against the tiled wall opposite me. “D-don’t come near me.”

I stuck a hand into the shower, and you turned your head away from me, squeezing your eyes shut. But instead of touching you, I grabbed the handle controlling the water temperature. I spun it all the way right, and you yelped as the jet of water turned freezing cold. You made to move out of the way, but I latched a hand onto your shoulder and held you still.

“Do you want me to turn it back to hot?” I asked you. You stood there, your muscles seizing up as you tried to conserve what little warmth you could. You squeezed your eyes shut as water ran down your face and nodded. “Then be a good girl for me.”

Part of me wanted to leave the water on cold just to watch you suffer, but a promise was a promise. I twisted the handle back to its original position and stepped into the shower. I slid the door closed behind me, trapping us inside the shower together. The stream of warm water hit me, wetting my dark curls and cascading down my body. My gaze was hard and dark as I looked at you, and my lips were pressed into a straight line.

“I just want to make sure you’re clean.” My voice was low and dark. I pushed you flat against the tile and pressed my chest flush against yours. “What about down here?” I moved my hand between your legs and ran my fingers through your folds. “Are you clean, or are you a filthy girl for me?”

You tensed against me as I swirled the tips of my fingers over your clit. You sucked in a sharp breath, your face inches from mine. Your damp hair stuck to your forehead, and drops of water ran down your breasts. You bit your bottom lip as I continued to stroke your folds. I moved my fingers down to your entrance and traced little circles there.

“You didn’t answer me.” I leaned down so my lips grazed the shell of your ear as I spoke, “Are you my dirty girl or not?” You leaned your head back against the wall, your lips parted in a silent moan. “Tell me, and I’ll be gracious enough to stretch you out before I shove my cock in you again.” You squeaked at my words, and my hand hovered over the handle. “Don’t think I won’t use this again.”

You blinked rapidly. “Yes, I am!”

I let go of the handle and pushed one finger into you. You fell forward and gripped my arms, your fingers digging into my skin. I liked it. “You’re what?” I seethed, pumping my finger in and out of you at an agonizingly slow pace.

“I’m your...” you trailed off and took a deep breath. “I’m your filthy girl.” Your voice wobbled as you said the words, and you didn’t meet my gaze.

I nodded approvingly. “Good. Not convincing, but good. We’ll work on your delivery.” I added another finger inside of you, and you clung onto me like your life depended on it. “Are you still sore from last time?” I curled my fingers inside of you. “Don’t worry, gorgeous. You’ll get used to taking me. We have a lot of time to practice.”

Water streaked down your cheeks, and I couldn’t tell if it was from the shower or your eyes. I hoped it was the latter. I took my fingers out of you and gripped your thigh. I lifted your leg over my hip and positioned myself at your entrance. I leaned forward and crashed my lips against yours at the same time I pushed into you.

You whimpered, but the sound was swallowed by my lips on yours. I slowly slid into you to the hilt as I moved my lips against yours. I pulled out of you only to push back in, groaning into your mouth as your walls contracted around me. I grabbed your thighs and lifted you off of the ground. You folded your legs around my waist and gripped onto my shoulders to balance yourself. I sped up, your tits bouncing in time to my thrusts. You went weak in my arms as the new angle I was ramming into you at allowed the head of my cock to hit that spot deep inside of you with each thrust.

I took your bottom lip between my teeth and bit down. You cried out as your lip split open, ruby red blood spilling out and into my awaiting mouth. I ran my tongue over the fresh cut, partly to soothe it and partly to taste your blood. It was warm and tangy and metallic and sweet. The taste increased my impending orgasm, and the hot water flowing down my back only added to the sensation.

I reached in between our bodies to rub circles over your clit. The action sent you over the edge, and your pussy squeezed down on my cock. I groaned as your climax triggered mine, and I spilled my seed into you. Your thighs twitched around me, and I snapped my hips against yours a few more times to get all of my cum out. I pulled out and set you back down on shaky legs. I watched my cum trickle out of your pussy, the rush of water flushing it down the drain.

“I’ll let you finish up. Make sure to clean this good, yeah?” I gave your sensitive pussy a smack of my hand, and you jolted with a squeal.

I laughed at your reaction and opened the door of the shower. I got out and closed it behind me. I grabbed a towel off of the towel rack and wrapped the soft, white cotton around my waist. I retreated from the room, the gentle whimpers coming from the shower causing the corners of my lips to curl into a devious smirk.


	12. Blood in the Water

I turned the stove down on low and wiped my hands on the blue striped kitchen towel. I threw it over my shoulder and walked out of the kitchen, listening to the sizzle of the pan slowly fade in the distance. It was time. I was going to show you just how much better your life will be with me, how well I could treat you. When you behaved, of course.

I entered my bedroom and spied you curled up on the bed, your back pressed against the headboard and your legs hugged to your chest. Your head was turned away from me to gaze out the window, your face blotchy and tear-stained. Outside, the sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of blood oranges and russet reds and royal purples. The twisted branches of the trees in the garden were cast in shadow and formed spiral silhouettes. In the distance, the skyline of Gotham City was just visible above the cloud of silver fog surrounding it, the bright, neon signs starting to illuminate the dark.

Your bare form was shaking. You hadn’t moved from that spot in the past couple of days, only when I brought in meager servings of food and water and to take your pill, and you hardly over spoke to me. I had allowed you to sulk for now. I knew you were still adjusting to the new life I had provided you, but I was going to lose it if your temper tantrum didn’t end soon.

“Dinner’s ready, gorgeous.” I grinned proudly at you.

Your head snapped to look in my direction, and you wiped away the tear tracks left on your cheeks with the back of your hand. The cut on your bottom lip was closed and healing up nicely. My gaze drifted down to your neck to see the bruise peeking out from under your collar turning shades of brown and yellow. Even the bite mark on your clavicle was starting to fade. I clenched my jaw. I didn’t like that. I’d have to make some new marks soon.

My smile faltered. “You didn’t put on the dress I laid out for you.”

I looked down at the babydoll dress spread out on the foot of the bed. It was made out of pink satin with a bow in the middle of the low neckline. The waist was cinched in and billowed out to a full skirt. The sleeves were bell-shaped, and white, lace frills lined the hems of the sleeves and skirt. It hadn’t been touched from when I had put it there.

“Put it on,” I commanded. You said nothing, merely locked eyes with me like some sort of challenge to see who would back down first. “Put it on,” I repeated slower, gritting my teeth with each word.

You still didn’t move. I snatched the dress off of the bed and threw it at you. It hit you directly in the face, and you reared back, your head smacking against the headboard. The dress fell into your arms, and you stared at me with wide doe eyes.

“Put the goddamn dress on so you can eat dinner, or do you want to sit at the dinner table naked like some sort of whore?” My tone was as sharp as the edge of a razor blade. My hands curled into fists at my sides, my nails digging into my palms.

Your chin wobbled, tears threatening to spill from the corners of your eyes. You moved your trembling limbs slowly and pulled the dress over your head. You tugged on the hem of the skirt so it laid flat, your hands straightening the wrinkles out of the fabric.

My expression softened, and I walked around the side of the bed. I sank into the mattress next to you, and I noticed you inching away from me. “I’m sorry, gorgeous. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’ve just been so patient, waiting for you to stop pouting. I don’t know how much longer I can wait,” I bit the last sentence.

I reached out and ran my hand through your hair. You flinched, but let me touch you. You winced when my fingers caught on some of the snarls. My gaze flitted over you.

“Your hair really needs to get brushed,” I remarked, retracting my hand from you. “But we don’t have time for that. Dinner is getting cold.” I hopped off of the bed and held my hand out to you. “Let’s go.”

You stared at my hand for a moment before hesitantly placing your palm in mine. Your hand felt so weak and frail in mine. I gave it a squeeze and pulled you off of the bed. I lead you out of the room and into the dining room just off of the kitchen. The lights were low, and a single candlestick sat in the middle of the oak dining table. I pulled out a red velvet tufted chair in front of a place setting at the table, and you sat before I pushed it back in. I grabbed a lighter and flicked it on, holding the blue flame to the wick. It caught fire, drops of wax rolling down the candle as the warm orange flame flickered.

“I’ll be right back with dinner.” I put back the lighter and clapped my hands together. “I’m so excited for you to see what I made for us.”

You sat stiffly, your back as straight as a board. I went over to the kitchen and served two helpings of what I had prepared onto ceramic plates. I balanced them in my hands as I carried them back into the dining room. I set one plate down in front of you and the other at the place setting right beside you. Then, I sank into the overstuffed chair next to you and watched, anxiously anticipating your reaction.

You looked down at the plate and furrowed your brow. “Grilled cheese?”

“Not just any grilled cheese,” I pointed out. “Grilled cheese with Branston pickles and a dash of aioli. Alfred and my father used to make these together. It was my favorite food growing up.” I pressed my lips together. “All my memories associated with my parents became painful after their death, but cooking this for you makes me happy. We can make new memories together and be open with each other and share our experiences, like couples are supposed to do.”

I placed my hand over the one resting in your lap, and you tensed under my touch. I smiled at you and rubbed little circles over the back of your hand. The candlelight cast shadows over your face and bathed you in a warm, saturated glow. Sitting there, wearing the babydoll dress I had given you, you looked even more heavenly than usual. I couldn’t believe how lucky I was to have the girl I was in love with, with me after all this time.

You avoided my gaze, unsure of what to do. “Well, go on. Try it.” I took my hand off of you and gestured to the plate in front of you. “Aren’t you going to eat?”

You focused on the curls of steam drifting off of the golden, melted cheese in front of you. “I’m not hungry,” you murmured.

The corners of my lips twitched. “Not hungry?” I laughed like you had made a joke. “Of course you’re hungry, gorgeous. You haven’t eaten anything in the last few days except for some soup that I practically forced down your throat.”

You didn’t say anything more, just remained stock still with your hands glued to your lap. Your eyes stayed trained on the grilled cheese sandwich perfectly split down the middle on the plate in front of you. The room was so silent you could hear a pin drop. The flame of the candle projected obscure shadows onto the ceiling.

I grabbed one half of the sandwich and raised it to your lips. “Take a bite,” I demanded. I pushed the sandwich against your lips, and you reluctantly parted them. I shoved the sandwich into your mouth, and you bit down. “Now, chew and swallow.”

You chewed slowly. I put the sandwich down and grabbed a bottle of Pinot Noir off of the table. I picked up your wine glass from your place setting and tipped the bottle. Dark red liquid poured into the glass, and when it was half full, I put the bottle down. I watched you swallow roughly before holding the glass out to you, the liquid sloshing at the movement.

“Wash it down.” I would’ve made you drink myself, except I was scared to stain the brand new dress I had bought for you.

You didn’t fight me as you plucked the stem of the wine glass out of my hand. You tipped your head back and took a rather large gulp. Your cheeks grew ruddy and warm as the sweet, heady taste of the alcohol flooded your tastebuds. You swallowed as you set the glass back down on the table.

“See, isn’t this nice?” I picked up my napkin and wiped at some wine dribbling from the corner of your mouth. “Just us two and a nice meal, candlelight, the setting sun outside. It could be like this all the time, you know. If you behaved, life with me could be heaven, or it could be hell.” I shrugged. “It’s all up to you. It’s your choice.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. “You can’t pretend that I’m off in Paris forever. My friends and family will see through it eventually and come looking for me.”

I leaned back in my chair and folded my hands in my lap. “But I won’t have to pretend forever.” I gave you a calculated stare. “You will fall in love with me, gorgeous, and when you do, you can return to your job as fundraising chairman of your family’s company. You’ll move into the manor with me properly and we can officially begin our life together. We can go to those galas and soirees you’re always attending together.” I gazed at you, a far off, dreamy look in my eyes. “And then maybe a little further down the road, we’ll get married and have kids. We’ll grow old together and look back on all this and laugh, laugh at how ridiculous you were for refusing me, Bruce Wayne, the love of your life, of all people.”

I finished speaking and examined you. You stared down at the swirling lines of the wood grain on the oak table with horrified eyes. You didn’t say anything else, and your lack of words was beginning to get on my nerves. I tilted my head to the side.

“You’re awfully quiet.” I leaned my elbows on my legs. “C’mon, I wanna hear what’s going on inside that pretty, little head of yours. Tell me what you think.”

You turned your head to lock eyes with me. “What I think?”

I nodded encouragingly. “Yeah. What’s on your mind, gorgeous?”

You narrowed your eyes until they were slits. “I think you must be delusional if you think keeping me locked up here like some sort of prisoner will make me fall in love with you. I think you must have lost your mind if you think your shitty cooking or _killing my brother_ will make me want to spend the rest of my life with you!” Your voice vibrated with anger.

I frowned. “You don’t like my cooking?”

The legs of the chair scraped against the wooden floor as you shot up from your seat. “I’m not some princess locked up in a tower waiting for a prince in shining armor to rescue me, and you’re certainly not the prince. If anything, you’re the dragon. I’m not a doll you can play dress up with and break when you get frustrated. I’m not a trophy you can take whenever you feel like it and display it up on your shelf or a housewife you can force to take care of your kids and clean your house and fuck at night while you’re off having a life of your own. I’m my own person, and nothing you can do to me will ever take that away from me!”

Your chest heaved as you finished your speech. Silence settled over us briefly, and the corners of my lips curled into a smirk. “I highly doubt that, gorgeous.”

Your eyes burned brighter than the candle in the middle of the table. You grabbed your plate off of the table and chucked it at me. I ducked out of the way, and it smashed against the wall behind me. A thousand ceramic pieces rained down on the hardwood, and your grilled cheese sandwich with one bite taken out of it fell to the floor sadly with a sorry plop. I whipped my head around to look back at you.

You pressed your hands flat against the table. “You took my fucking brother from me, you asshole!” you shrieked at the top of your lungs.

You went for your wine glass next. You hit it against the pointy corner of the table, and it burst into a million shards of glass in your hand. Drops of wine splashed all over the floor and the table and the front of your dress. You yelped and clutched your hand. Dark red liquid ran down your palm, but crimson leaked out of the small bit of glass imbedded in your finger.

My eyes immediately became a shade or two darker, and I stood up. I stalked over to you like a shark smelling blood in the water, the soles of my shoes crunching the fallen glass on the floor. I felt like I was being magnetized towards you. You tore your eyes away from your finger as I got closer, your heart racing faster. You tried to back away from me, but looked down at the glass wearily. That would not go well with your bare feet. You were trapped.

I stopped in front of you and stared at your finger. It reminded me of when I had first seen you bleed all those weeks ago in Roosevelt’s. Your blood hadn’t lost any of its luster or appeal to me since then. I closed my hand over yours and gripped the shard of glass between my index and pointer finger. I plucked it out, and you elicited a small squeak. I leaned my head down and kept eye contact with you as I ran my tongue over the cut in your finger. Your blood flooded my senses, increasing my desire.

I pulled away from your hand. “Come on, I want to show you something.”

Before you could respond, I wrapped my arms around your waist and threw you over my shoulder. You squirmed in my arms as I carried you into the bedroom. I set you down on your feet and closed the door behind me, locking it so it would take longer for you to run from me. You stood, unsure of what to do, and I opened the top drawer of the dresser. I dug around through my underwear and came across the pair of panties I had stolen from you all those weeks ago. I rubbed my thumb over the crotch of the black, lacy material. I could still feel the hardened mix of your juices and my cum. I smiled softly. It was a nice memory, but not what I was looking for.

I dropped it and rummaged through the contents of the drawer until my hand hit something hard. I wrapped my fingers around it and pulled it out, shutting the drawer. The handle of the pocket knife no longer felt heavy in my hand. Instead, it felt like an extension of my limb, like it had always belonged there.

“Do you know what this is?” I turned around and held up the knife to you. With a flick of my wrist, I flipped the blade out. The silver curve caught the light and reflected it. It was clean now, but I still felt like I could see the blood staining it.

“A knife,” you breathed out. You tracked every movement I made, suddenly aware of how I fidgeted with the handle.

“Not just any knife.” My footsteps were deafening as I stalked towards you. “This is the one that I used on your brother when I killed him.”

Your jaw ticked, but you said nothing. You just remained completely still, your gaze glued to the knife in my hand.

“Do you want me to use it on you?” I gripped the handle until my knuckles turned white. “Do you want to know how he felt before I stabbed him, how his life flashed before his eyes?”

“Stop.” You started to back away from me. “This isn’t funny, Bruce.”

“Did I say I was joking, gorgeous?” I felt like the side of me that wanted to pamper you and protect you and keep you safe was peeling away to reveal the darker side of me, the parts that wondered what your skin would look like inside out.

The backs of your calves hit the footboard. You had no where else to go. “Don’t come any closer to me.” Tears welled in your eyes. “I mean it.”

“I know you do, gorgeous, but you’re still not getting this. You’re not in control here.” I stopped in front of you, your chest practically flush against mine. “You belong to me now. You’re mine to do whatever I please with.”

I hovered the knife inches from your face, moving it side to side, left to right, taunting you. You stood rigid, your eyes following the blade glinting in the light. In an instant, you sidestepped me and raced towards the door, but I caught your arm before you could get very far. I yanked you back by your elbow and threw you onto the bed. You bounced on the mattress with a shriek.

I was on top of you in a second. “Need I remind you that no one can hear you scream?” I pinned your legs down with my knees and grabbed both your wrists in one hand. I held them above your head and pressed the sharp tip of the knife to your chest. “Hold still. This’ll only hurt a little bit.”

“No!” You were full on screeching now. You thrashed underneath me. “Stop! No!”

I traced gentle circles over your clavicle just light enough not to bleed. I left thin, red, irritated lines on your skin in my wake. The little cut in your finger wasn’t doing it for me anymore. For so long, I had fantasized about causing you pain, but I had always been too scared of what it would mean to do it. But now, there was nothing holding me back anymore.

I lowered the blade to right under your collarbone and pressed down. Your eyes went wide, and you stilled underneath me. I dragged my hand to the right, slicing your skin open. I pulled the knife away and watched how little beads of ruby red blood formed before rolling down your chest in thick, heavy drops. It oozed out like honey and stained your skin red. You parted your lips, and a bloodcurdling shriek escaped your throat. It was like music to my ears.

I leaned my head down and licked a stripe over the cut, smearing the blood dripping out. It tasted like nectar, or ambrosia, or the sweet juice that leaked out of strawberries when you squashed them with your hands and watched the red liquid run down your wrists. It was absolutely inebriating. I lifted my head, blood leaking out of the corners of my mouth and dribbling down my chin. Drops dripped off and hit the satin bow on your dress.

I ran my hand over your breast, down your side, and rested it on your hip. I gripped the hem of your dress and pushed the skirt up over your hips, exposing yourself to me. I reached for the fly on my pants and pulled down the zipper. You squirmed and wriggled, and I tightened my hold on you until you stopped moving. I dropped the knife on the mattress next to you to pull my cock out of my pants. I was already painfully hard. I ran my hand up and down my shaft, the blood that spilled onto my hands spreading over my length. The sight only aroused me even more.

“No!” You cried out in agony. Your face was a violent shade of red.

I lined up with your entrance and grabbed the knife from where I had laid it. I held it against your thigh as I pushed into you. I let out an animistic growl as your walls clenched around me. I dug the knife into your skin, and you howled so loud, your voice caused the walls to quake. I lifted the knife and watched the blood roll down the blade and drip onto the handle.

“Your blood is exquisite,” I moaned. I snapped my hips against yours, sinking into the hilt, and you jolted on the bed.

I picked up the pace, feeling your pussy squeeze down on my length with every thrust. I ran my hand up your side, wiping the blood on my hands on the shiny material of your dress. It was ruined, but I was too aroused to care. I made another cut on your bicep. It wasn’t deep enough to kill you, to gush blood until the light drained from your eyes and your cheeks lost their color. It was just enough to sting and make your head feel like it was up in the clouds. I dipped down and soothed the cut with my tongue, easing the burn and lapping up more of your blood.

You bucked against me and rolled your wrists in my grip. I pressed the blade flat against your face, and you froze beneath me. The blood clinging to the blade smudged across your cheekbone, and you stared up at me with pupils blown wide from fear. Tears sprung from the corners of your eyes, mixing with the blood and streaming down your cheeks in pink-tinted drops. I would never do anything to mess up that pretty face of yours, but you didn’t need to know that.

I leaned forward until my lips grazed the shell of your ear. “I know what you want.” I let go of the knife again and reached between our bodies to rub your clit. “You want to cum again. Even bleeding, even quivering in fear, you want me to fuck you until you cum.”

Your upper lip curled, and you drew your brows together. If you could find your voice, I’m sure you’d have some nasty words to say to me, but the pain was too overwhelming. I pulled my hips back and impaled you again, wiping the menacing look off of your face. You arched your spine, the back of your head digging into the mattress, as a mix between a breathless moan and a wail fell from your lips. I could see your hardened nipples through the fabric, and I grabbed the neckline of your dress. In one swift movement, I ripped it down, an awful tearing sound audible above the noise of skin slapping against skin as it shredded in two. Your breasts were now exposed to me, and I cupped one as it bounced, brushing my thumb over the hardened peak.

I ran my tongue over your cheekbone, gathering a mix of your blood and tears on my tastebuds. It tasted salty and sweet. I tilted my pelvis and thrust into you at an angle that made the head of my cock hit that spot inside of you just right. Your walls constricted around my length, triggering my own orgasm, and you squeezed your eyes shut. Fresh tears rolled down your cheeks and left tracks that cut through the mixture of blood and saliva on your skin. I slowed my pace until I was sure I had gotten all of my cum out and pulled out. I collapsed on top of you, crushing you underneath me with my weight. I panted, my chest pushing against your breasts with every breath.

When I stopped seeing stars, I pressed my hands into the mattress on either side of you and pushed myself up. I gave a chaste kiss to your dry, chapped lips. “I’ll be right back,” I whispered. “Don’t move.”

I crawled off of the bed and tugged my pants up, pulling up the zipper. I rushed out of the room and into the living room where my desk was. I fished the first aid kit out of the bottom drawer and returned to my bedroom. I dropped it onto the mattress beside you and went to the bathroom next. I retrieved a rag and came back to the bedroom. I was about to begin my ministrations when I caught sight of you, and my arm holding the rag fell by my side.

You were lying flat on your back, your limbs stretched out and limp. Your dress was torn to shreds and hung off of you in tatters. Your hair was even messier than before and mussed, your baby hairs matted and sticking to your forehead. The three cuts I had made already slowed bleeding and were covered in dried up blood. Cum leaked out of the region between your legs and ran down your thighs. Your body was covered in a thin layer of sweat and entangled in the white sheets, blood spotting them like you were a virgin. I would never get rid of those sheets. You had a bloody handprint on your right tit from when I had caressed it, and you still had a splatter of red on your cheek. Your eyes were half open, dark lashes fluttering like you were teetering on the edge of unconsciousness, though I doubted you had lost that much blood. You looked exhausted and thoroughly fucked. I leaned in the doorway to the bathroom and admired you. It filled me with a strange sense of tenderness at seeing you this way, and pride. Pride that no one else had done what I had managed to do to you.

I approached you and sat between your legs, the mattress groaning under me in complaint. I tucked my legs under me and reached forward, gently cleaning my cum from you with the rag. That seemed to make you stir, and you flinched at the contact. I continued, and you didn’t fight me. I threw the rag blindly over my shoulder and cracked open the first aid kit. I took out an alcohol wipe and brushed at the cut on your thigh.

You hissed like a cat and sat up. Your shaky hands moved down to mine wiping away the dried and crusted blood around the wound. “I’m sorry, but I have to.” I looked up at you and halted all my movement. You looked down at me, your bottom lip wobbling, before retracting your hands from mine and slowly nodding.

I went back to cleaning the cut. When I was done, I dressed it with ointment and bandaged it securely. I pulled away to inspect my handiwork. Dots of blood seeped through the white bandage, but overall, the injury didn’t look too bad. It would definitely scar, but it wasn't going to need stitches. Good thing, too. I may be well-versed in hand to hand combat, but medical attention was one area that I was lacking in.

I heard soft whimpers and looked up to see you weeping. “You hurt me.” You raked your hands through your gnarled hair and gasped for shaky breaths. “You said you love me, but you hurt me. How can that be love?” You wiped the snot from your nose with the back of your hand. You were crying so hard now that the words were barely intelligible.

“I know I hurt you, gorgeous, but I took care of you afterwards, didn’t I?” I raised a hand and cupped your cheek, swiping away the tears falling from your bloodshot eyes. “And I made you cum too, didn’t I? I made you feel good. That’s what love is, gorgeous. Hurting the person you love and making it up to them afterwards, and I love you so very much.”

You wet your dry lips and opened your mouth to respond, but nothing came out. You lifted your hand and placed it over mine on your cheek. You tried to push me away from you, but you didn’t have the strength. So you just sat there with your hand over mine, and for a second I could almost convince myself you were doing so willingly.


	13. Diamond's are a Girl's Best Friend

I leaned in the doorway of the greenhouse. It was attached to the very back of the manor and had a view of the garden and the high, brick wall surrounding it through the floor to ceiling windows making up the walls. During the day, sunshine shone down through the slanted roof, and the exotic plants upturned their luscious, green leaves or unfurled their fuchsia-colored petals to soak up the rays. But now, it was dark outside, and the room seemed almost overcrowded with all of the shadowed plants taking up space.

One of the sun lamps in the corner was turned on and cast shadows over your face. You sat on a lounge chair facing the window and ran your finger through the condensation gathering there. I smiled; I knew I would have found you here. The greenhouse had become your safe haven in the past couple of days, the place you always went when I was too busy doing something else to pay attention to you. It was as close to outside as you could get; I guessed you were too afraid of my reaction to try to go out into the real thing.

My gaze raked over your form. You were wearing a red, satin babydoll dress I had picked out for you that morning with a bow cinching the waist tied in the back. You hugged your legs to your chest, a peek of the red, lacy thong I had chosen for you visible between your legs. There was a reason I had picked such an outfit for you, and soon that reason would be clear.

You were so focused on what your finger was doing you didn’t even register my presence until I spoke up. “Hello, gorgeous.” I smirked at you.

Your head snapped to look at me, but you said nothing, your finger stilling on the window pane. I pushed off of the doorway and stepped inside. The humidity of the greenhouse hit me like a train, and the leaves of some plants brushed against my arms as I moved towards you. My jaw ticked as I came closer, and I stopped right at the foot of your lounge chair and leaned down.

“Are you taking your chances and signaling for help from the outside world?” I peered at what you had been drawing, expecting to see ‘SOS’ or ‘HELP ME’ scribbled over and over again like the workings of a madman. But in its place were random spirals and swirls like mosaic inscribed on the cool, wet glass.

My expression softened, and you noticed it, because you asked, “Do you really think I’m that dumb?” There was an edge of accusation to your tone, but it was mainly just curiosity.

I looked at you and ran my fingers through your hair. “Of course not, gorgeous, but I do think you’re that desperate.” I pressed a kiss to your forehead and felt you flinch at the contact. “It is good to see you coming out of your funk, though. You ought to be rewarded.”

Your eyes widened, and you pressed your thighs closer together. I pulled away and stood up straight, a chuckle rumbling through my chest. “I didn’t mean it like that, although that does give me some ideas.” I shot you a wink, and your face grew hot. “I have a surprise for you. I got you something.”

I reached in the pocket of my slacks and wrapped my fingers around a black, crush velvet box. I pulled it out and presented it to you. You bit your bottom lip, and your whole body tensed. “Is that...” you trailed off, too afraid to finish the sentence.

“An engagement ring? Oh, no.” I laughed. “I did say I wanted to take this slow, didn’t I, gorgeous? No, one day, but not yet.” I smiled and held the box out to you. “Here, take it.”

You looked at me wearily before hesitantly taking it from me, your fingers brushing against mine. Your touch still sent sparks throughout me. You held the box in the palm of your hand and slowly opened it like it was going to bite you if you weren’t careful. Your eyes grew to the size of saucers when you stared at its contents.

Two red diamond earrings sat on top of a plush pillow inside. The round surface caught the light of the sun lamp behind you and shimmered like Dorothy’s red slippers. The vibrant, crimson hue was just so definite, so absolute. They reminded me of candy apples, or two perfect drops of ruby red blood. Your blood.

I kneeled down beside you. “They’re red diamonds, the rarest type of diamond known to man. Less than thirty in the world have been found. I know how fond you were of your diamond earrings, so I just had to get these for you.” You didn’t tear your gaze away from the box, the expression on your face unreadable. I tilted my head to the side. “Well? Do you like them?”

You finally looked up at me. “Do you really think you’ll win me over with expensive gifts?”

I furrowed my thick brows. “No, of course not. This isn’t about winning you over. This is about giving you what you deserve.” I snatched the box from your hand. “Here, let me help you.”

I tucked your hair behind your ears and took the earrings from the box. You stayed absolutely rigid as I put one earring in. Then, I move to the other side and did the same with the other. I sat back on my heels and admired you. The color perfectly accentuated the rich tone of the dress and complimented your skin. You reached up and fiddled with the backs of the earrings.

“They might be a little heavy,” I warned. I grabbed you by your wrists, and your eyes went wide for a second. I lowered your hands away from your face and took you in again. I could still see the raised scars from where I had cut you standing out on your skin, red and irritated. A dreamy look came over my face. “Gorgeous,” I whispered.

The chime of the doorbell echoed throughout the house, the sound clear and cutting through the atmosphere of peace and serenity that had settled over the greenhouse. The noise rang in my ears, and I perked up. Who would be ringing my doorbell, especially at an hour as late as this?

Your ears pricked up, and panic rushed through my veins as I saw a glimmer of hope in your eyes. “Help!” You hopped off of the lounge chair and tried to dodge around me. “Somebody help me, please!”

I grabbed you by the collar around your neck and yanked you back. I kept you close to my side as I dragged you out of the greenhouse, practically lifting you off of your feet. You flailed your limbs frantically, kicking and thrashing. You reached out for any nearby plants to stop yourself from going with me, branches and thorns scratching your smooth skin. I pulled on you harder, and your hands shot up to the collar around your throat. You made a strangled breathing noise, the leather constricting your airway with the way I was holding it.

I finally got you out of the greenhouse and stomped down the hall, you in tow behind me. I spotted an airing cupboard and went for it, wrenching the doors open. I shoved you inside, and you collapsed in a heap on the cement floor, scraping your knees. You coughed and sputtered as you gasped for breath.

My whole form took up the frame of the doorway, blocking any escape. “Stay here. If I don’t find you here when I get back, I’ll do a lot more than just cut you.”

With that, I closed the doors on you. I could hear you scramble to your knees on the other side as you started to push on the doors. I pressed my knee against them to keep them in place. I tugged at the knot on my tie around my neck until it came loose. I slipped it off and wrapped it around handles instead, securing the doors. I stepped away and watched as the doors shook from your banging fists. They rattled, but they didn’t budge. I turned away and listened to your muffled screams of despair bounce off of the walls. They faded away with the more distance put in between us as I retreated away from the cupboard.

By the time I made it to the foyer, I knew you could no longer be heard, even if your shrieks were still echoing in my ears. I stopped just in front of the front door and smoothed out the wrinkles in my button up with my hands. I made sure there wasn’t a hair out of place on my head and plastered a wide smile on my face before gripping the doorknob. I twisted it and swung the door open to reveal none other than Tommy Elliot standing on my doorstep, his lips pulled back to reveal two rows of bleached white teeth in a patronizing smile.

“Took you long enough. I was starting to think no one was home,” he teased. “How’s not having a butler working out for you now?”

The corners of my lips twitched. “What do you want, Tommy?”

“I wanted to see if you wanted to go to the Towers with us. It’s been weeks since we’ve hung out.” He jabbed a thumb behind him, and I followed his gesture to look over his shoulder.

His black, stretch limousine was parked in my circular driveway, blending in with the night. I could hear giggling and laughter from within, and the horn blared a couple of times. I saw another group of girls I didn’t know who looked like they were fresh off of the pages of Teen Vogue smiling and waving at us through the tinted windows. They were stunning, but they were no where close to you. No one was.

“No, thanks, Tommy. That’s not really my thing anymore.” I sighed.

He drew his brows together. “Not really your thing anymore? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean that my days of getting drunk and high with girls I don’t know at clubs until five in the morning are over.” I rolled my eyes.

He quirked a brow. “This doesn’t have anything to do with (Y/N), does it?”

I crossed my arms over my chest, bristling at the mention of your name. “What do you mean?”

“We all heard that she ran off to Paris, but come on, Bruce! I didn’t think you’d be that hung up on her.” He clapped a hand on my shoulder. “I mean, yeah, she was kind of hot, but she had a major stick up her ass. I’d get it if you just wanted to hump her and dump her, but settle down with her? I’d sooner date Grace than commit to a relationship with her.” He chuckled.

I clenched my jaw so hard, my muscles started to ache. I didn’t like the way he was talking about you, not at all. It made me think about smacking his head against the cobblestone and watching the blood trickle out of his skull and down the front steps. “Don’t talk about her like that.” I shook his hand off of me.

The smile on his face faltered. “What happened to you, Bruce? You’re distant, you’re aggressive, you’re secretive. The last time I saw you, you stopped by for like five seconds, and then disappeared on us for weeks. You’re nothing like the Bruce I know now.”

“Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think,” I snapped.

“And now Grace is telling us you were a total dickhead to her and she saw (Y/N) running out of the Sirens Club crying that night,” he continued. “What’s going on?”

“What’s going on is that Grace is a nosy, little bitch who doesn’t know how to keep her mouth shut, or her legs shut either, for that matter.” I poked him in the chest, causing him to stumble back a little. “And you’re just a bottom feeder who’s been leeching off of me and riding my coattails the moment I started hanging out with you guys. Do I have to remind you who bought the Towers so you could use it as your little hunting ground? Who paid the tab every time we went out together? Who got you laid because one of your pickup lines was ‘Bruce Wayne, billionaire playboy and heir to the biggest corporation in Gotham, is my best friend?’” I mocked him. “Face it, Tommy. What are you without me? A sad, little trust fund baby who doesn’t get enough attention from his parents, so he drinks and snorts coke and assaults girls?” I scoffed. “Pretty pathetic, don’t you think?”

His face had turned beet red by now, and smoke was practically fuming out of his ears. “And who are you? The poor, little orphan boy who wants everyone to feel sorry for him, who uses his parents’ death as an excuse to sulk and wail and moan and treat everyone like shit, like the rest of us don’t have problems of our own?” he spat. “You want to think you’re so better than us, that you’re so superior, that we have no clue what we’re doing in our little, meaningless lives and you have control over everything. You want to think you’re the only one who knows what you’re doing, what’s up from down and left from right and right from wrong.” He lifted his chin, looking down his nose at me. “But the truth is you’re nothing, just like the rest of us.”

In an instant, my fingers wrapped around the collar of his shirt and lifted him off of his feet. His jaw went slack as he was taken aback, and his hands raised to grip mine. I brought him close so his face was mere inches from mine. “Believe me. I am not at all like the rest of you, not in the slightest,” I seethed through gritted teeth.

His eyes were wide and he clawed at the hands on my collar. His mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, but all that came out were helpless squeaks. I smiled. Part of me wanted to keep him there, watch the light drain from his eyes as his lungs ran out of air and folded in on themselves like a house of cards, but I also knew better than to murder someone right in front of a limousine full of people, already wasted or not.

I harshly let him go, and he fell to the ground on all fours. He scrambled to his feet and dusted himself off. He lifted his head to make eye contact with me, and I could see his eyes glistening with fear. “You’re fucked up, man. I knew you were a sick freak back at Anders Prep. I should’ve kicked your sorry ass out of our group when I had the chance.”

I stepped closer to him and stood at my full height until I was towering over him. “Get off my doorstep and into your little limousine this instant before I beat the shit out of you worse than I did back in Anders Prep,” I threatened.

He stared straight at me, his lip twitching, before he backed down. “Whatever.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and sauntered down the steps. The door to the back of the limousine slid open for him, and he climbed inside. It slammed shut behind him, and the car tore out of the driveway with a screech, leaving tire tracks in its wake. _That should keep him away for a while._

I waited until it was all the way past the gate before going back inside. My heavy footsteps echoed off of the walls as I drew closer and closer to the airing cupboard I had trapped you in. It was quiet, almost too much so. I picked up the speed and spotted the doors to the airing cupboard. I stopped right in front of them. Not so much as a peep came from inside, and the sound of blood rushing filled my ears.

I undid my tie around the handles and practically ripped the doors off of their hinges as I opened them, revealing you sitting inside. You hugged your knees to your chest, your whole body trembling. When you saw me, you scooted away until your back hit the furthest wall. “Please don’t hurt me,” you begged. Tears streamed down your blotchy cheeks. “I didn’t go anywhere, just please don’t hurt me.”

Usually, I would’ve loved to see you in such a frazzled state, but for some reason, it tugged on my heart strings. I sighed and reached towards you. You jerked away until you realized I was just extending a hand to you. “Come on, gorgeous. It’s getting late. Let’s go to bed.”

You inspected my hand like it was boobytrapped before lifting a shaky hand. You rested your palm against mine, and I pulled you off of the ground and out of the cupboard. I led you into my room and onto the bed. You got under the covers as I stripped until I was only in my black, silk boxers. I crawled towards you, and your breath hitched in your throat. I got in the bed beside you and laid on my side, my hand under my head. I stared at you until you hid your head under the duvet.

I placed my hand on your shoulder, and you stiffened at my touch. Then, I pulled you flush against me and looped my arm around your waist. “Goodnight, gorgeous.” I buried my face in your hair, breathing in your scent. You smelled like the green apple shampoo I had bought for you, and I could already feel sleep slipping over me. “Sweet dreams.”

-

The nightmares didn’t come for me anymore. They had stopped ever since I had you in my bed, sleeping soundly next to me every night. I had been able to get a good night’s rest, but this night, I was being dragged out of unconsciousness by a pair of hands running up my chest.

I wiggled and turned my head to the other side of my pillow. The hands stilled for a second before continuing their ascent. They moved over my skin very slowly, almost like they were caressing me. I felt hips straddling my waist, and a lazy smile came over my face. I bucked my hips against theirs subconsciously, and their thighs tensed around me. Finally, my eyes fluttered open, and I blinked away the dots obscuring my gaze to see blue moonlight streaming through the window illuminating your form on top of me. I tilted my head to the side and furrowed my thick brows. Could you at last be returning my affections? And if so, why were you doing so in the middle of the night?

You gasped when you noticed my eyes were open, and then I realized what your wandering hands had been searching for. Your fist closed over the magnet dangling from the chain around my neck.

The wistful look in my eyes was replaced with one of pure anger. I moved to stop you, but you leaned over and grabbed the lamp on the nightstand. You tugged on it roughly, pulling the plug out of the outlet, and hit me smack dab in the head with the heavy base.

A sharp, piercing ring filled my ears as I fell back down on the bed. Through the overwhelming ache in my brain, I could feel you rip the chain off of my neck and hop off of me. You started for the door, unlocking it and pulling it open. You ran through the doorway as I finally gathered enough of my senses together to sit up. I swung my legs over the side of the bed, touching my hand to my head to see if I was bleeding. I peered at my fingertips; no blood, but I was sure to have a nasty bruise blooming where you had attacked me.

I pushed myself to stand and sprinted out of the room. “All right, (Y/N)! I’ve given you long enough of a head start!” I stopped in the hallway and listened. I could hear quiet yet rushed footsteps echoing down the hall leading to the back of the manor. “But now I’m coming after you!”

I chased after you, using the telltale sound of your footsteps as my guide. The halls weaved and twisted like a labyrinth, and I lost track of you when I came across an intersection between four hallways. But then I spotted something lying on the hardwood haphazardly down one of the halls as if it had been thrown there. The closer I got to it, I realized it was two things: the first, your shock collar, and the second, the magnet on the chain I had been wearing close to my heart since I first had taken you. I picked them up. So you had managed to get it off; it didn't matter. I had worked too hard to lose you now, and when I did get my hands on you, you would be in deep trouble.

The back door opening onto the garden was wide open. A gust of wind hit it as I stormed through the doorway, causing it to creak on its hinges. I could see you halfway across the garden in the dark, darting towards the brick wall like your life depended on it. It kind of did. Your legs were covered in mud and scratches from brambles, and the hem of your dress was dipped in grime. The satin fabric itself was torn in places from offending trees, and the skirt blew up around you as you ran, exposing your lacy panties. I would’ve enjoyed the sight if it didn’t mean you were running away from me.

“(Y/N)!” I called before hurtling towards you, my voice cutting through the otherwise tranquil noises of the garden at night. You glanced over your shoulder at me, and your eyes widened. You quickened your speed, though it was no use. I had to admit, you ran fast, but I was faster. You were starting to realize that as I began to close the distance between us, the cool night air rushing around my half-naked body and twigs and thorns scraping at my bare feet.

You skidded to a halt at the wall and looked up. It was about ten feet tall and made of evenly laid brick. There was no way around it except for over, and even then, you’d have to have a rope to climb it. No chinks, no cracks, no crevices, no weeds splitting the seams between the bricks or winding ivy to grab onto. But still, you took your chances. You scratched your nails down it like a cat and a scratching post. You finally found some purchase and managed to get your feet off the ground, but you still had a good ways to go before you were on the other side. It was a rather pathetic display that filled my gut with repulsion and disgust.

I stopped a yard or two away from you, the adrenaline easing in my veins. I had hardly broken a sweat and was barely panting. “Come on, gorgeous. Get down from there. You’ll never make it.” I put my hands on my hips. “Tell you what, if you get back here right now, I promise not to punish you, and you know I make good on my promises.” You didn’t respond, continuing to stretch your arm as much as you could in order to reach the top of the wall. “So how ‘bout it?”

You grunted and groaned. “Never,” came the strangled reply. You raised your foot to search for another foothold but found none. Your shoulders slumped, and I could tell you knew that was as far as you were getting. “Help me!” You resorted to screaming your head off. “Please, somebody, help!”

Rage surged through my veins once more. “Suit yourself,” I huffed.

I stomped towards you and reached up, threading my fingers through your hair. You shrieked as I yanked you off of the wall, causing you to fall. I hauled you a good ways away from the wall, and your hands flew up to the one tangled in your hair. I tugged on your mangled locks and pulled you close to me. You yelped, and I held you still against me as I fastened the collar back around your neck.

“No!” You sniffled and moved your hands down to your neck, clawing at the black leather circling your throat. “No!”

I snaked an arm around your waist and pulled you flush against me. You yipped before going silent, your body seizing with fear. I could practically smell it coming off of you in waves. I leaned down so my lips were right against your ear and whispered, “You should’ve finished the job when you had the chance.”

Then, I hurled you towards the brick wall.

As your body collided with the bricks, a shock entered you from the collar. It wasn’t anything big. Not a bolt of lightning, not a burst of sparks. It was just a small jolt of electricity that looked like flint striking against stone, a flash of white. But your eyes bulged as your legs locked up and your shoulders hunched. Your back went rigid, and your limbs froze. You convulsed as you teetered to the side and fell to the ground. Then, all the energy left you, leaving you limp and lifeless like a cold, dead corpse in the dirt.

I walked towards you. “I did warn you about this, didn’t I? What would happen if you came near the wall with the collar on?”

I stopped right by your side and loomed over you. You were so still, for a second I thought the shock had actually killed you, but then I saw the single tear leak from the corner of your eye and roll down your cheek. The rest of you may have been listless, but your glossy eyes were still full of life, and passion, and hatred. They told me everything you weren’t able to say.

“I know you thought you could escape me, but I already told you there is no escape. There is no exit, no way out. There’s only me now. I can’t believe how long it’s taking you to get that.” I laughed. Your eyes followed me as I paced back and forth, the only part of you able to move now. “But now I suppose we can have some fun, make up for you interrupting my sleep.”

I leaned down and grabbed your arm. I made my way back towards the manor, dragging you along behind me. Your head lolled to the side, mud splattering across your skin and grass brushing against your legs. When I got to the door, I wrapped my arms around your middle and hoisted you up. You were debilitated and malleable in my grasp, like a rag doll I could do what I pleased with. I carried you through the halls and into the living room, tracking mud across the wooden floors.

“Look what a mess you’ve made. Now I’m going to have to clean it all up,” I scolded you like a little child.

I brought you over to the desk and swept one arm across the top, knocking all my possessions and belongings off. They crashed to the floor with a loud clatter. I draped your limp body over the desk and lifted your skirt over your hips. I found myself missing the way your voice cracked with emotion when you protested against me. I was sure if you could, you would’ve been kicking up quite the fight right now. _All well. Might as well make the best of it._ I hooked my thumbs under the elastic band of your underwear and pulled them down your ankles.

“It’s too bad I can’t see your reaction to this gorgeous.” I pushed a mud-caked strand of hair out of your face. You had all sorts of leaves and twigs stuck in the strands. “This is going to hurt.”

I placed one hand on your back to steady myself. I rested the other one on your bare ass, rubbing gentle, soothing circles on your soft skin. I pulled it back before bringing it down on you, slapping your flesh with a sharp snap. Your body jolted on the desk, but the only sign that you had felt something at all was the alarm in your eyes. I looked down at the mark I had made on you. A bright red handprint bloomed across your skin, and I grinned from ear to ear. It was beautiful.

I spanked you again and again, the sound of my hand hitting your ass reverberating off of the walls and filling my ears. I didn’t stop until your entire ass was red and raw from being abused so much. There was no way you were going to be able to sit down tomorrow. I stepped back and stared at what I had done. I pursed my lips. It wasn’t enough; something just wasn’t right.

Something in the corner of my eye caught my attention. I turned my head to see what it was. A silver letter opener laid discarded on the ground amongst a scattering of ballpoint pens and sharpies. It was sharp, the warm yellow light in the room glinting off of the edge. _Perfect._

I leaned down and wrapped my fingers around it. I stood up and positioned myself behind you, the point of the letter opener poking your ass cheek. I dragged it across the expanse of skin, creating just a deep enough cut for ruby red blood to seep out. I tossed the soiled letter opener aside and dipped a finger in the blood dripping out. I brought it to my lips and licked, savoring the taste of you. It was sweet and spicy like cinnamon, but had a metallic tang to it like iron and carbon and stardust. I licked my lips. You never failed to disappoint me.

I leaned to the side and stared at your face. Your head was lying on the desk, your cheek smushed against the oak wood. Your eyes were half open, and inside them burned a fire brighter and hotter than the sun or any of the stars in the sky. You could burn down all of Gotham with that fire, set the world alight and watch it reduce to ash and smoldering embers. But the fury there wasn’t for the world; it wasn’t for anyone else but me.

And I wouldn’t have it any other way.


	14. Far Gone

The fire turned icy cold.

Your words were frozen, and your skin was like fresh fallen snow. Every time I touched you, my fingers turned blue, and I was frostbitten to the touch. Your temper simmered, submerged under freezing depths like something waiting to be awoken. I didn’t know how I expected you to react once you recovered from the shock, but I certainly hadn’t expected this. Every glare you shot me was polar and frigid, your eyes like two lakes frozen over with a thick layer of ice. I wondered what it would take to crack the surface, to melt the wintry glaciers underneath.

I let you alone while I attended to some work at my desk. When I was done, I went out searching for you. “Gorgeous,” I called. I headed for the greenhouse first, but it was empty. “Gorgeous?” My voice was a little louder this time. My shoes slapped against the wooden floors as I picked up the pace. “Gorgeous!”

I came across one of the doors in the hallway cracked open. I stopped in front of it, watching the light leak out of the gap between the floor and the bottom of the door. I pressed a hand against the wood and gave it a slight push. It made a loud creak as it swung open on its hinges.

You were in the library curled up in a cushy armchair, your nose buried in a book. On the side table next to you was the french vanilla latte I had made you earlier in a steaming, white ceramic mug on a saucer. The walls were lined with floor to ceiling bookshelves, some shelves so high they needed a ladder to be reached. They were jam-packed with classics by Charles Dickens and Harper Lee, plays written by Shakespeare and Tennessee Williams, or great romances like _Wuthering Heights_ by Emily Brontë. Epics like _The Odyssey,_ poems by Edgar Allen Poe, even some young adult fiction novels that had come out in recent years like _The Hunger Games_ and _Twilight._ The air smelled like coffee and dust and worn, yellow pages. It had been a while since someone had actually utilized this space, so it brought a smile to my face seeing you there all cozy.

“There you are.” You nearly jumped out of your skin at my words and looked up to settle your gaze on me. I leaned in the doorway, a smug smirk spreading over my face. “Didn’t you hear me calling?”

You shrugged and lifted your book to cover your face. I stepped into the room and walked closer to you, my soles tapping against the hardwood. I stopped in front of you and clasped my hands behind my back. I tilted my head to the side and peered at the cover of your book.

“What are you reading?”

You lowered the book to your lap and sighed. “Well, I’m not exactly reading anymore, am I? Not now that you so rudely interrupted.”

I laughed and fell against the velvet, olive sofa opposite you. Mots of dust flew off of the cushions and floated in the air, catching the sunlight streaming through the windows. “What are you reading?” I repeated.

You closed the book and glanced at the cover. _“A People’s History of the United States_ by Howard Zinn,” you read. My face lit up, and you quirked a brow. “What?”

“I remember seeing that in the bookcase in your penthouse.” I grinned. “I took the liberty of filling the shelves with some of your favorites.” I gestured vaguely around the room. “Hope you don’t mind.”

You shot me a dirty look and shifted in the chair. “I haven’t read this book in years.” You flipped through the corner of the pages and ran your finger down the glossy cover. “Why?”

I furrowed my thick brows. “Why what?”

You looked up from your lap and met my eyes. “Why did you take me?”

I rolled my eyes. “I already told you why-”

“No, I know that,” you cut me off. “I’ve told you everything about me, but I know nothing about you.” You put your book down in your lap. “What made you like this? Why are you the way that you are?” You narrowed your eyes like you could see straight through me, like I was made of cellophane. “Was it your parents?”

The hairs on the back of my neck stood on edge, and my shoulders went rigid. “Everyone likes to blame the death of my parents for my erratic behavior,” I put the words in air quotes, “but this has nothing to do with them.”

“Then what was it?” You leaned forward. “I know you haven’t always been like this. You weren’t like this in school. You weren’t like this the day Tommy beat you up.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I wouldn’t have liked you so much. I would’ve sensed it,” you asserted. You wrapped your fingers around the handle of the mug and raised it to your lips.

“You didn’t sense anything that night at the Towers though, now did you?” I fired back.

You gulped down a mouthful of latte. “I did, deep down.” You set the mug down and fidgeted with your fingers. “I could feel something was off, but I ignored my gut instinct. Well, that, and you were very persistent.”

“We both know that’s an understatement, gorgeous.” I winked at you.

You looked back up at me. “You’re avoiding the subject. What happened to you?”

I pulled my lips taut into a straight line. “A lot of things your mind wouldn’t be able to comprehend.”

“Really? ‘Cause you’ve basically put me through hell the whole time I’ve been here.” You rested your elbows on your knees and your chin in your hands. “Try me.”

“Fine, if that’s really what you want.” I folded one leg over the other and stared you dead in the eye. “An immortal being who had been around for hundreds of years begged me to kill him, and so I did.”

It took a second for the words to settle in, but when they did, your forehead scrunched in confusion. “What?”

“See? What did I tell you? You wouldn’t understand.” I draped my arms over the back of the sofa. “You’ve got to listen to me when I say things like that, gorgeous. I know what I’m doing.”

You ignored my last statements. “That’s impossible. I mean, I knew you were crazy, but this is like an entirely different level.”

“He said I was the only one who could kill him,” I continued, “that I was his heir. I didn’t want to kill him. I thought it was the wrong thing to do, that killing anyone, regardless of the circumstances or who they were or what they had done, was the wrong thing to do. But then he started saying all these things, and he got into my head...” I trailed off. It was almost like I was back there, seeing the flickering candlelight cast shadows on the brick walls and hearing the drip of water from the ceiling on the concrete and feeling the blade as it sunk into Ra’s’s flesh. “I liked killing him, and I thought all the drinking and the drugs and the sex could suppress that part of me, but then I met you, and none of it seemed like enough anymore.”

You stared at me uneasily like I had just bared my soul to you, like I had cut open my chest cavity and ripped out my heart and threw it at your feet. “So you like hurting people?” Your voice was suddenly very small and vulnerable to crack at any moment.

“Not just anyone.” I pressed my hands against the cushions and stood up. “I like hurting you, gorgeous, more than anything else.” I walked towards you, and your breath caught in your throat. “It’s the only thing that keeps me satisfied anymore.”

I reached for you. You inched away from me and pressed yourself against the back of the chair you were sitting in as much as you possibly could. My fingers made contact with your cheek, and you let out a small gasp. I pushed some hair out of your face, watching the strands run between my fingers.

“Your blood is the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted, the best thing I’ve ever known.” I traced your jawline with my finger down to your neck. I felt your pulse there; it was strong and racing. I followed the blood rushing through the blue vein down your chest were it disappeared under the neckline of the dress you had on.

You swatted my hand away. “Why would you think doing bad things would get rid of these bad parts of you? Dark only breeds more dark. You need light to cancel it out.” You lifted your chin. “It’s easier to fall down the wrong path. Trust me, I know, I almost did so myself. But none of it’s going to make you any happier. It’s not going to make you feel any better. It’s just going to dig you into a deeper and deeper hole until you’re left with nothing but the bits of you that you hate.”

I cocked my head to the side and ran my gaze over you, as if I was considering your words. Then, I wrapped my fingers around your neck and squeezed down, not enough to cut off your airway, but just enough to make it hurt. Your mouth opened but no sound came out. “It’s cute when you act like you know what’s going on in here,” I tapped my finger against my temple, “but you don’t. I’m the happiest I’ve ever been, and it’s all thanks to you.”

I let go of your neck and smacked your cheek lightly. The high I got from watching the fear take over you and flood your eyes was unlike anything else I had ever experienced. I chuckled lightly and took a step back.

“Face it, gorgeous. I’m too far gone. You said it yourself; I’m crazy.” I grabbed your mug off of the side table next to you. It was empty. “I’ll go get you some more coffee.”

You didn’t utter a word as I left the room. I walked through the halls into the kitchen and put the mug in the coffeemaker. I filled it with water and opened one of the cabinets. I got out a bag of coffee grounds and poured it into the coffeemaker. I pushed a few buttons and watched as curls of steam started to drift out of the machine. I leaned back against the counter and folded my arms over my chest, crossing one ankle over the other.

When the mug was full of dark brown, steaming hot liquid, I took it out of the coffeemaker. I mixed it with some cream and a lot of sugar before heading back to the library, but I found it empty. “Gorgeous?” The book you had been reading was placed on the side table.

The light brown coffee sloshed from side to side in the mug as I marched down the halls. I peeked in the living room and the bedroom, but you weren't there either. I even checked the greenhouse again, but still, you were no where to be found. I cursed under my breath, starting to regret ever letting you roam the manor freely as it was becoming increasingly easier to lose track of you, when my ears pricked up at the sound of a voice.

I skidded to a halt and zeroed in on the sound. It wasn’t your voice; I could recognize that anywhere. This was a female’s, much brighter and chirpier and sunnier. “Gorgeous!” I followed the distant noise to one of the extra rooms that had been converted into a parlor nobody ever used.

Now, before I had taken you, I had gotten rid of any and all technological devices you could possibly find and use to contact the police except for two: the first being the iPad I used for surveillance on your penthouse, which I kept under the false bottom of the bottom drawer of my desk at all times when I wasn’t utilizing it, and the second being the television kept in this particular parlor, partly because I found it harmless, and partly because I had forgotten about its very existence.

All of the lights were off in the parlor except for the blue light emanating from the tv. It was turned on to a news channel, and a woman sat at a desk in front of a panel of windows overlooking the Gotham City skyline. She had dark brown hair that fell in soft curls around her face and a square jaw. She looked very professional in the navy blue blazer and white button up she was wearing.

“My name is Valerie Vale, and these are tonight’s headlines.” She folded her hands on top of the desk. “The (Y/L/N) Corporation’s fundraising chairman (Y/N) (Y/L/N) has been reported missing. It was at first believed that she had gone on vacation to Paris, but after not returning her mother’s texts or calls, her mother became worried that something was not quite right. The Paris Police Prefecture have looked into the girl’s whereabouts, and she was not sighted anywhere in Paris. Her family is now believing foul play was involved. This comes only a month after her stepbrother Brant Jones was found murdered in an alley due to a possible mugging.”

I tore my gaze away to see you sitting on a tufted, leather sofa. Your eyes were glued to the screen, and you hugged your knees to your chest. You were absolutely enthralled with every word that left the woman’s lips. The light from the tv flickered over your face, casting shadows across your features, and made your eyes shine with something I hadn’t seen for a long time: hope. Hope danced in your eyes like the flame of a candle waving in the wind. When I had said I wanted to see what could melt your freezing cold exterior, this wasn’t what I had meant.

“What are you doing?” I snapped.

You whirled around to see me standing in the doorway, your eyes growing to the size of saucers. “I was just-”

“Do you think it matters if they know you’re missing?” I set the mug down on the side table and stalked closer towards you. “Do you think it matters if they come searching for you? They’ll never find you here. They’ll never know that I took you.”

You pressed your hands into either side of the sofa, readying yourself to run. I took one more step, and that was all that you needed to hop off the couch. I was on you in a second, grabbing you by the collar around your neck with both hands and pulling your chest flush against mine. You stared up at me, your face inches from mine, and your warm breath fanned my face.

“And even if they did find you here, they’d never be able to rescue you. I’d kill them before they had the chance.” I brought one hand up away from your collar to your cheek, caressing your cheekbone with my thumb. “Is that what you want? You want me to kill whoever comes looking for you?” My lips curled into a sinister grin. “Do you want me to kill your mother?”

“No!” Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. It was a knee jerk reaction.

My grip on the collar tightened, and you yelped. “Then you better pray that no one ever knows you’re here.” I clutched your shoulders and shoved you down to the ground. “Go ahead, pray.”

You fell to your knees and looked up at me, furrowing your brows. “I don’t understand.”

I sat down on the sofa facing you. “Really? You don’t know what to do when you’re on your knees?” I reached for my belt buckle and smiled as realization bloomed over your features. I made quick work of the belt and tugged my pants and boxers down just enough to free my hardening cock from its restraints. “Open up,” I commanded.

You sat back on your heels with your hands in your lap, that defiant glint I’ve come to know so well in your eye. I leaned forward and seized your chin roughly. I pinched your cheeks, causing your lips to smush together.

“Open up, or I’ll have to force you to,” I seethed through gritted teeth.

You stayed still, drool starting to drip from your smushed lips. I pulled my hand back for a second, and your shoulders slumped with relief. But then I brought my hand down on your cheek, the sound it made as my palm made contact with your skin resonating inside the small room, even drowning out the noise from the tv. Your head turned to the side, and red blossomed in the shape of a handprint on your cheek where I had slapped you.

“Don’t make me repeat myself again,” I hissed.

You turned back to me, your chin wobbling and tears threatening to spill from your eyes. You parted your shaky lips, and I wasted no time threading my hand through your hair and pushing your head down on my length. The tip of my cock slipped past your lips, and you wrinkled your nose, screwing your eyes shut. I used my hand in your hair to guide you up and down my shaft.

“You better not fucking bite me, or I’ll do much worse.” My voice came out strangled like a growl as I felt your warm, wet mouth around me.

I bucked my hips at the same time I moved you down on my cock, slipping farther down your throat. I let out a low groan as you gagged, the back of your throat constricting around the head of my cock. You made a muffled noise around my length, the vibrations only adding to my pleasure, and pressed your hands against the sofa to get away from me. However, my hand in your hair kept you still, and you stopped struggling before I could tear out any strands.

“You’ve got hands, don’t you?” I looked down at you. “Why don’t you use them?”

You shifted your upper body into my lap so I didn’t have to yank on your hair so much to bob you up and down my shaft. You lifted a shaky hand and wrapped your fingers around the base. You pumped what you couldn’t fit into your mouth with your hand. You stared up at me, tears leaking out of the corners of your eyes and running down your flushed cheeks. They mixed with the saliva and precum dribbling down your chin.

I thrusted all the way into your mouth, sheathing myself complete inside of you until your nose was nestled in my pubic hair. You tried to jerk back, but my grip on your hair tightened as I held you there. I watched alarm flood your eyes, and you banged your fists desperately against my thighs. I tilted my head and stared down at you. I wondered what it would be like to watch you choke on my cock, to watch your face turn purple as you sucked in your last gulps of air through your nose before your eyes closed forever. Wouldn’t that be a way to go? My cock twitched at the thought, but I didn’t want to cum down your throat.

I released your hair and pulled you off of me. You fell backwards and caught yourself on your hands. You gasped for air, clutching a hand to your heaving chest. Your complexion slowly returned to its normal color as your lungs filled with air. I wasn’t ready to cum inside you. Not yet.

“Get up here,” I snapped next to me on the couch, “on your hands and knees.”

You focused your lethargic gaze on me, precum and saliva still dripping from your lips. When you had enough oxygen in your veins for your brain to properly function, you backed away from me. You scrambled across the floor like a crab, doing anything in your power to put distance between me and you, whether it was useless or not.

I stood up, my erect cock still hanging out of my pants, and walked towards you. You screamed when your back hit a wall and raised an arm to shield yourself from me as I came closer. I latched my fingers onto your forearm and dragged you back towards the sofa. You shrieked and thrashed against me, but my grip on you was too strong. You kicked your legs, trying to dig your heels into the floor, and clawed your free hand against the hardwood for something to hold onto. Your nails left scratch marks on the floor, and I clenched my jaw.

I got within reach of the side table and grabbed the mug off of it. I turned it upside down, dumping the light brown liquid onto your writhing form. You let out an inhuman screech as it hit you. It wasn’t hot enough to permanently burn you; it was just hot enough to sting your skin. You froze and squeezed your eyes shut as it ran down your face, plastering your hair to the back of your neck. I chucked the empty mug at the wall where it shattered into a million ceramic pieces with a deafening crash and showered onto the floor.

I leaned down and folded my arms around your waist. I picked you up like a rag doll and bent you over the arm of the sofa, your bruised knees on the couch cushions. You grabbed onto the arm of the sofa to push yourself up, but I pinned you down with one hand on the middle of your back. I lifted the skirt of your now stained dress over your hips, exposing your ass and pussy to me.

I hummed as I ran my finger through your folds. You were wet to the touch. You stilled, seemingly accepting your fate. I leaned forward so my lips were right against your ear. “Do you want me to fuck you again?” I gathered your juices on my finger before moving it up to your back hole. “Or do you want to try something new?”

That seemed to renew the fight in you. “No!” You kicked your feet against the cushions and banged your fists against the side of the sofa. “Don’t! I’ve never—”

“Are you an anal virgin, gorgeous?” I rubbed circles over your hole. “Does that mean I get to take another thing from you?” My grin was evident in my tone. I nipped at your earlobe with my teeth.

I pushed my finger into you. You went stiff underneath me, and your muscles contracted around my invading appendage. “Ow,” you whined. “That hurts.”

“Just relax. It’ll get better.” I pushed my finger further into you. You had the arm of the sofa in a death grip, your knuckles turning white. I pumped my finger in and out of you. “God, you’re so tight. You need to loosen up.”

I took my finger out of you, and you relaxed until I pressed two against your hole. “No! Stop!” You dug your nails into the leather so hard I thought you would tear it.

I ignored you and pushed them in. You hissed and bit your bottom lip so hard I thought you would reopen the cut splitting it. I pumped my fingers in and out of you slowly, listening to the small squeaks falling from your lips. I increased my pace and moved them inside of you, stretching you out. Then, I took them out of you and watched you clamp down on nothing.

“Don’t worry, gorgeous. I’ll fill you up soon enough.” I spat into my hand, watching the warm saliva drip down my palm. I ran my hand over my length, smearing my spit mixed with your fluids along my shaft. I was painfully hard at this point and couldn’t wait to be inside of you, to feel you around me.

I gripped the base of my cock and pressed the head against your back hole. You perked up and looked at me over your shoulder. “Please, don’t! Please!” you cried, your eyes glossy with tears.

“Shhh,” I hushed you. “Just do your best to relax, and everything will be all right.” Though, I had to admit, your pleading was only adding to my arousal.

You opened your mouth to say something else, but I thrust into you before you could. You fell forward, your head hanging over the side of the couch. I barely got the tip of my cock in before you constricted around me. Saliva wasn’t exactly the best lube for the job, but the thought of me hurting you this way sent tingles running up my spine. You let out an earsplitting scream, and I moved my hand to grip your hip. My fingers dug into your flesh, carving bruises and crescent moon creases that would be visible in the mirror tomorrow.

I set a rough pace, pushing into you a little more and a little deeper each time my hips moved forward. I couldn’t get enough of the way you felt around me, so hot and tight and warm. The woman on the tv droning on and on was barely audible over the obscene squelch of me inside you and the squeak of the leather under my knees. I moved my hand from your hip down to your ass. I traced the closed up cut on your right cheek. It was about four inches long and formed a perfectly straight line. I felt the thin crust of dried up blood sealing the wound and the raised skin around the scar under the pad of my finger. Pleasure twisted in my gut at the memory of what I had done to you, and at what I was doing to you now.

I leaned forward so my chest was pressed against your back. My shirt and your dress were soaked through with sweat where our bodies met. I slid my hand down between your legs and rubbed soft circles over your clit. Tears dripped off of your chin and landed on your hands holding onto the arm of the couch for dear life. I buried my nose in your hair and inhaled your scent. You smelled like coffee and vanilla and green apple shampoo, and I didn’t know the concoction could be so utterly intoxicating.

I finally managed to thrust into you all the way, my hips snapping against yours, and hit my climax. My high washed over me as I came inside you, a low groan escaping from my throat. My grip on you started to fail as my arms shook, and I pulled out of you, watching my cum dribble out of your hole and down your thighs. I let go of you, and you collapsed onto the arm of the sofa, your head lolling to the side. You made no noise, no movement. I wasn’t even sure if you were conscious or not. The only sign that you weren’t dead was the steady rise and fall of your ribcage.

I fell the other way, my head colliding with a throw pillow. My chest heaved up and down, and my shirt stuck to my skin. The light from the tv changed, catching my attention, and I turned my head to see the same woman behind the desk again. The news station logo was in the top left corner, and a red banner ran along the bottom of the screen declaring other top stories in yellow, capital letters that moved by almost too fast to read.

“It is suspected that (Y/N) (Y/L/N) has been missing for about three weeks now,” she recited off of the teleprompter, pressing her lips into a thin line. “Please, if you have any information about her disappearance, anything at all, call the number on the screen or contact the GCPD.”

I felt around for the remote on the side table behind me and clicked off the tv with a hit of a button. It switched off to black, shrouding the room in darkness. I reached forward and snaked my arms around your waist. I pulled you flush against me and rolled onto my side so I was spooning you. Your eyes were closed, and I pressed a quick kiss to the top of your matted hair, tasting a hint of coffee on my lips.

So they had figured out that you were missing now, sooner than I had thought they would. But I didn’t care. It would take an act of God or a sacrifice to the devil to take you away from me, to separate me from you. Nothing, and I mean nothing, can get between us.


	15. A Moment of Clarity

Bright sunlight shone through the white curtains pulled over my bedroom window, blinding me and signaling that it was morning. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and rolled over onto my back, the sheets rustling around me. I laid flat and folded my hands over my stomach, staring up at the ceiling. The air-conditioned air washed over me and caused goose pimples to rise across my bare chest. I was so comfortable, I didn’t want to get out of bed. I just wanted to stay there all day.

I turned my head to the left to see you in bed beside me. You were laying on your side with your back facing me. Your hair was fanned out around you on the white pillow your head rested on, and your chest slowly rose and fell evenly, indicating you were still very much deep in sleep. You had the duvet pulled up to your shoulders and tucked under one arm. I sucked in a breath as rays of sun beamed down on your bare skin, making it shimmer like the red diamond earrings still in your ears.

I felt my cock twitch in my boxers. I was already getting hard, and not just from morning wood. You looked absolutely breathtaking. I turned over onto my side and raised one hand. I gently placed it on your shoulder, being careful not to wake you. I moved my hand down your side, pushing the covers down and exposing more of your body to me. I sat up on my knees, and the mattress groaned in complaint. I glued my eyes to you, tracking your every movement.

I folded the covers down at the end of the bed. I scooted closer to you on the bed, hovering over you. I brushed my fingertips over your ankle and traced an invisible line up your leg. I ran my hand over the curve of your hip. Your skin was soft and smooth. You wriggled, just ever so slightly, and I retracted my hand from you. I shifted my gaze to your face, waiting for your eyes to pop open, but they never did. I released a breath I hadn’t realized I had been holding.

I laid down on my side and pressed myself flush against you. I hooked my thumb under the elastic band of my black, silk boxers and dragged them down my legs, freeing my hardening cock. I reached around and stroked your folds. Wetness gathered on the pads of my fingers; you were soaked. You sighed pleasantly as my fingers swirled around your bud. I wondered what you were dreaming about that was getting you so excited. Could you be dreaming about me?

I slid my hand down to grip your thigh and lifted your leg. I moved my knee in between yours and grabbed the base of my cock. I fisted myself a few times before lining up with your entrance. I pushed into you, only managing to get the head in before you constricted around me. I changed my angle and delved deeper into you. Your walls fluttered around me before giving in and opening up to me. I thrust into you to the hilt, stretching you to your limit. Your body jolted on the bed, and I groaned as your tight, wet heat surrounded me. You squirmed more visibly this time, and I halted all movement. I waited until I was sure you were fast asleep to resume my activities.

I gripped your hip as I pulled my hips back only to slam back into you. A breathy moan escaped your throat. I tried to go as slow as possible so as not to wake you, but it was becoming increasingly hard with how good you felt. I picked up the pace, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the otherwise empty room. An incoherent babble fell from your lips. I felt you starting to stir, but I was too enraptured in bliss to care. Your eyes gradually opened, hazy and bleary from sleep. I impaled you sharply, and you furrowed your brows. You glanced over your shoulder at me.

“Wh-what...” you stuttered before trailing off. The dust was cleared from the gears in your brain and they started to churn again. You came to your senses as your eyes widened in alarm. Your body stiffened against me, causing your pussy to clamp down on my cock. I grunted animalistic at the sensation and sped up. You turned back around and clawed at the sheets to get away from me, but it was like you were moving through molasses.

I easily snaked an arm around your waist and pulled you back against me, trapping you. “Shhh,” I hushed you, my lips grazing the shell of your ear as I did so. “I thought this would be a good way to start off your morning.”

My hot breath hit your neck, and I could see the hairs there rise to stand on edge. Your head lolled back and rested against my shoulder as I continued to pound into you, your mind still foggy with sleep. You gazed up at me, your lips parted in silent moans and your eyes begging me to do something, though I wasn’t quite sure what. My chest was slick with sweat where our bodies met, and my dark curls stuck to my damp forehead. I moved my fingers back down to your clit as I felt my impending orgasm bubble inside me, wanting desperately to tip you over the edge with me.

You squeezed your eyes shut and elicited a high-pitched squeak as your pussy contracted around my cock. You shuddered against me, your thighs twitching and spasming as you rode out your high. I kept fucking you, my breaths becoming shorter and shallower. Then, the ripples of pleasure turned into a huge tidal wave that crashed over me, and I drowned in the depths. I stalled as I spilled my cum inside you. I leaned my head down and sank my teeth into the faultless skin of your shoulder, muffling my euphoric groan. You yelped, and I felt the skin break. I pulled back to see a bite mark imbedded in your rapidly reddening skin, blood trickling out of some places where my teeth had punctured your flesh and mixing with my saliva.

I lapped it all up with my tongue as I pulled out of you. Then, I watched my cum dribble out of you and coat your thighs. I rested my head on your shoulder and lazily draped my arm over your waist. You didn’t move, still weary from sleep and thoroughly fucked with your eyes half-lidded. A small smile came over my face as I drew random swirls and spirals over the expanse of your stomach. I wanted to stay like this with you forever, but I knew I couldn't. I had things I had to do, stuff I had to take care of.

I pushed myself up on my elbows and moved some strands of hair out of your face. I leaned down and pressed a kiss to your sweaty forehead. “I’ll be back, gorgeous.” I swung my legs over the side of the bed and pushed my hands off of the mattress to stand.

You perked up at my statement. You rolled over onto your back, your legs slightly spreading to give me a better view of the cum dripping out between them. “Where are you going?”

I pulled up my silk boxers and grabbed a random pair of discarded slacks on the floor, stepping into them and tugging them up my long legs. “Don’t worry about it.” I took my belt and threaded it through the loops, buckling it.

You sat up and hugged your knees to your chest. “You’re not going to kill my mom, are you? I did everything you asked!”

I turned around to look at you. You looked like a lost, little deer in headlights, with your doe eyes and the way your whole body trembled ever so slightly. It made a chuckle rumble through my chest. “Begrudgingly, but yes, you did.” I snatched my shirt and pulled it over my head. “I’m not going to kill your mom, gorgeous. I’m going grocery shopping.”

You relaxed at that statement. You let out a shaky breath, and your shoulders slumped. You leaned back to rest against the headboard, your legs going knock-kneed in front of you.

“I shouldn’t be long.” I yanked on my socks. “While I’m gone, take a shower and get dressed. Choose anything from the closet you want. Make sure to feed yourself, and I really hope I don’t have to remind you that with this thing on, there’s no means of escape.”

I stood up straight and leaned forward, wrapping my fingers around the thick collar on your neck. I jerked you so your head was forced to look up at me. You blinked and nodded fervently. You swallowed roughly, the leather of the collar digging deeper into your skin. I let go of you and stepped back. I didn’t miss the way you sagged and sucked in a sharp intake of air.

I stepped into my shoes before pressing a chaste kiss to your matted hair. “I love you, gorgeous.” I threw my blazer slung over the side table onto my arm and flashed you a lopsided smirk. “Be a good girl for me while I’m gone.”

Another downside to no longer having a butler meant there was no one to shop for groceries. Which meant it was up to me to make sure the pantry was stocked with enough food for the both of us. I had my chauffeur pick me up at the gate. I didn’t want him coming anywhere near the manor in case you got the idea to try something stupid. I had him drive me to some generic grocery store in Gotham. He parked at the curb, and I hopped out of the car. I tugged on the lapels of my blazer as I crossed the sidewalk to the automatic sliding doors of the store.

I plucked a black, plastic basket from a stack of them and slung it over my arm before roaming the aisles. I had a general idea of what I needed, but I was also taking my time wandering around. I was meandering down the kitchen utensils and cookware aisle when a rack caught my eye. I turned to see a whole shelf dedicated to different kinds of knives. I glanced at either side of the aisle to make sure I was alone. It was empty, and it didn’t seem like anyone was coming this way anytime soon. I shoved my hands in my pockets and stepped forward.

A set of knives with thin, silver blades sharp to the touch and thick, black handles stole my attention. I imagined ruby red blood dripping from their tips. Another set of sleek, smooth, matte black knives drew me to them. I could practically see the reflection of your fearful eyes in their blades before I brought the knife down on you. I noticed a stainless steel knife with a serrated edge packaged in clear plastic. I took it off of the shelf it was hanging on; it felt heavy in my hands. I thought about all the damage I could do to you with it, how I could saw through your flesh rather than make the neat, straight cuts I had become so used to creating.

“Master Bruce.”

The low, gruff voice that came from behind me ripped me out of the trance I was in, and I whirled around. Alfred stood across from me, looking very different from the butler I had fired two months ago. He wore an olive-colored flannel, dark wash jeans held up by a brown leather belt around his hips, and solid, chunky boots. His salt and pepper hair was a little longer and shaggier, like he hadn't had a haircut in a while. Silver whiskers ran along his jaw, indicating the start of a beard. The wrinkles lining his skin seemed more prominent, and he had dark violet circles under his glassy, blue eyes, like he hadn’t gotten a good night’s sleep in a while.

I was so taken aback by his sudden appearance, that I forgot to respond. “Alfred,” I acknowledged him. I clenched my jaw, unsure of how he was going to react to randomly running into me.

“There’s no need for hostility, Master Bruce,” he cleared the air. “I know things ended roughly between us, but that doesn’t mean they need to carry on as such.”

I nodded in agreement. “Then there’s no need for you to refer to me as Master Bruce anymore, is there?”

He pursed his lips. “I suppose not,” he drew in a breath before adding, “Bruce.” The singular word sounded strange and foreign on his tongue. His gaze flickered down to the blade in my hands. “Shopping for kitchen knives, now are we?”

My eyes widened slightly, and I hurried to put the knife back on the shelf. “I thought about it, but maybe another day.” I tried to sound casual and nonchalant.

“Didn’t think I’d see you here. I thought you would hire some other butler to run all your errands for you,” he grumbled, and I could see a spark of bitterness and resentment in his eyes.

“If I wanted someone to boss me around, I’d still have you at the manor, you know that,” I joked. “What are you up to now? Still working as some family’s guard dog?”

He cracked a grin. “I’m actually bartending at night now.”

I quirked a brow. “Really? That doesn’t seem like something you would do.”

He shrugged. “It pays the bills. That’s all that matters, isn’t it?” His teasing expression grew suddenly grave and serious. “I heard about what happened to (Y/N). I’m sorry.”

The smile slipped from my face. “Thanks, y-yeah, it’s been tough,” I stammered, unsure of what to say.

“It is strange, though,” he remarked. “First, her stepbrother is murdered in an alley, and then, she goes missing. It’s quite odd, don’t you think?”

I bristled at his words and stuck my tongue in my cheek. “Yes, very odd.”

“Whoever did it was smart, too.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “I mean, making it look like she went to Paris? Very clever. They knew what they were doing.”

I hummed in response. We locked eyes, his narrowing in suspicion, like we were daring each other to say what was on the other’s mind. Time slowed down around us. It was pretty obvious what he was thinking. Despite all his faults, I couldn’t deny that Alfred had always been incredibly sharp and intelligent.

Time sped up again when he was the first to back down. “Well, I’ll let you get back to what you were doing. I just thought I’d say hi.” He shot me a pointed stare. “Take care of yourself, yeah? Try to keep out of trouble.”

I nodded. “Goodbye, Alfred.” There was an edge to my tone.

His gaze raked over me one last time before he turned away. He retreated down the end of the aisle, his boots tapping against the tiled floor. My body went lax when he turned the corner. I hadn’t realized how tense I had become, how rigid and on edge. I had a feeling those weren’t just offhand remarks and that he wasn’t going to just let this go. I’d have to keep an eye out for him.

I finished my shopping and returned to the manor. My black town car dropped me off at the gate, and I walked all the way to the front door. I had one foot on the first stair leading to the doorstep when I spotted movement at the side of the manor. I furrowed my thick brows and decided to follow the source of the movement.

When I rounded the corner of the manor, I saw you standing in the grass barefooted wearing a baby blue tea dress. Your hair was brushed and tied back with a matching silk ribbon into a bow. Your face was upturned toward the sun, your eyes closed and a small smile on your face. The wind whipped at the skirt of your dress.

“What are you doing?”

My voice cut through your peaceful state. You snapped your head to look at me, and fright consumed the look in your eyes. “Wait, listen to me.” You stepped back and raised your hands in front of yourself defensively. “I-I wasn’t trying to escape. I just wanted to go outside,” you insisted. “Please, don’t hurt me.”

I tilted my head, studying you. Then, I slowly approached you, step by step drawing closer and closer. I stopped in front of you, and you cowered in fear, your entire body trembling. I wrapped my fingers around your outstretched arm and pulled you to stand up straight.

“It’s a nice day outside. Why don’t we go for a walk around the garden?” I offered, and the petrified expression in your eyes faded and melted into one of confusion. “On one condition.” I looped your arm through mine. “You have to be on my arm the entire time, you know, so you don’t escape.” I winked at you. “So, do we have a deal?”

You bit the inside of your cheek before nodding. I smiled at you and escorted you toward the garden. It was the beginning of the end of summer, but the flowers were still in full bloom. Pollen and dandelion fuzz floated through the air, and the summer breeze carried a sweet, floral scent throughout the garden. The trees were lush with lime green leaves that swayed in the wind, and yellow sunflowers sprouted out of the ground, growing like weeds. The air was filled with the sound of birds chirping and water bubbling in the stone fountain with a statue of Adonis carved out of marble.

“My parents used to take me berry picking,” you broke the comfortable silence that had settled over us, “when they were alive. We had this blackberry bush in our backyard, and in the summer, it would be ripe with berries. So every summer, we would go out there with baskets and pick as many berries as we could find,” you recounted. “After my mom died, my dad and I kept up the tradition to honor her memory. But then he met Maria, and we moved, and then he died, and there was no more bush. There were no more berries.” You looked down at the blades of grass tickling your feet. “There was no one to go berry picking with.”

I turned to look at you. “Why did you tell me that story?”

You took your bottom lip between your teeth. “I don’t know.” You shrugged. “Being out here reminded me of it, and it’s not like there’s anyone else to talk to around here.”

“The fact that you’re talking to me at all is a surprise.” I smirked.

You squinted at me. “Don’t read too much into it. I’m just bored.”

We stopped in front of a towering cherry blossom tree with a winding trunk. The twisting branches spread out from the base, armed with small clusters of blossoms. The pink, circular petals floated on the wind and infiltrated the air with their fresh, aromatic fragrance.

“Do you miss them?” you asked.

“Everyday.” I stared up at the tree. “It was all so sudden.”

“It was the complete opposite with my mom.” I could see the reflection of the azure blue sky and white, fluffy clouds in your eyes. “The cancer ate at her slowly. It started with visiting her after school to spending all my time at the hospital. I stopped sleeping in my twin bed and started sleeping in aluminum chairs under fluorescent lights. I can still hear all the beeping of the machines, but my dad...” you trailed off. “It was like I blinked, and he was gone.”

“There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think about it, that I don’t see them lying there on the gravel of that alley, or see their blood or the light fade from their eyes.” I could feel tears threatening to spill from the corners of my eyes, and I brushed them away quickly with the back of my hand before you could see. “Where do you think you would be if they hadn’t have died?”

“Not here, that’s for sure.”

“Me neither,” I mumbled. “I’ll never get over it.”

“Me neither.”

You turned your head, and we made eye contact. Something passed over us, some mutual understanding that went unsaid, like we had more in common than we had different. I wrapped my arms around your waist and pulled you flush against me. I leaned down and connected our lips in a kiss. It was unlike all the other times I had kissed you. This one was slow, and sweet, and sensual. It wasn’t filled with the usual unbridled passion and white hot fire. It was a warm orange flame of a single candle that simmered until it was smothered out. I moved my lips against yours, and although you were like stone against me, I could almost feel you kissing me back. It was like a breath of fresh air, a clear moment of clarity.

I knew you were still a long ways away from falling in love with me, but this was a start, and a start was all I needed.


	16. Liar, Liar

“Tell me more about your parents.” I sat on my bed and ran a brush through your hair. I enjoyed listening to the stories you had to tell about your family. It felt like the only time you ever really opened up to me, and when you recounted the memories, it was like I could envision myself there, picture myself with you.

You sat criss-crossed in front of me and fidgeted with your fingers. “There’s not much more to tell that I already haven’t told you.” You stared straight ahead at the mirror above the dresser, watching as my reflection’s hand moved the brush through your hair. “My mom died when I was around eight years old. I don’t have many memories of her.” You took your bottom lip between your teeth. “It’s like I’m starting to forget her.”

I stilled the brush in your hair. I set it down and looped my arms around your waist, pulling your back flush against my chest. I rested my chin on your shoulder and met your eyes in the mirror. “You’re not forgetting her, gorgeous. You can never forget her. She’s your mom. She’ll always be with you, whether you realize it or not, right here.”

I raised my hand, and you flinched before I pointed to the left side of your chest over your heart. You tensed against me, your shoulders square and your back rigid. Your eyes bore holes into mine. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

I furrowed my thick brows, slightly taken aback by the question. “Because I love you and I don’t like seeing you sad, so I want to make you feel better,” I answered honestly.

You chewed on the inside of your cheek. “I thought seeing me sad turned you on.”

The corners of my lips curled into a smirk. “Only when I’m the cause.”

I pressed a kiss to your shoulder just below the strap of your dress. I worked my way up your shoulder to your neck, avoiding the thick, leather collar encircling your throat. I placed featherlight kisses over your skin and appreciated the neat, red scar of one of the many lacerations I had made there. I kissed your cheek and looked in the mirror to see you frowning.

“I’m teasing you, gorgeous.” I chuckled and went back to untangling the knots in your hair with the brush. “Why don’t you tell me a story about your dad?”

You pursed your lips. “Well, there was this one time he took me bowling, and—”

The ring of the doorbell resonated throughout the house as it went off. I froze, the brush halfway through tugging on the strands of your hair. I could see your eyes widen in the mirror. I yanked the brush out of your hair and tossed it onto the mattress beside me. It bounced before coming to a rest. I clamped a hand over your mouth and pulled you roughly against me. You let out a squeak that was muffled by my palm.

“Scream, and I will give you something to be sad about,” I leaned down and hissed in your ear.

You nodded fervently, your chest heaving. I slowly peeled my fingers away from your mouth until I completely let go. You sucked in a breath and exhaled a sigh of relief. “I won’t scream,” you confirmed.

“Good,” I hopped off of the bed and reached for the side table, “but just to make sure...” I pulled open the drawer and took out a ball gag.

You clenched your jaw. “That’s really not necessary.”

“I’m just taking precaution, gorgeous.” I took a tentative step towards you. “You haven’t exactly given me a lot of reason to trust you.”

You looked at me before moving for the door, but I got to you before your feet even touched the floor. I snaked an arm around your middle and shoved the ball gag into your mouth. I shoved you face first into the mattress and pinned you down with a knee on your back. You shouted in protest, but the ball gag plus the covers muted your noises. I clicked the ball gag into place around your head and stroked your hair lovingly.

I stretched an arm behind me for the drawer. I took a pair of handcuffs out and wrenched your arms behind your back. They snapped into place with a metallic clack, and I wrapped my fingers around your arm. I jerked you back and dragged you over to the closet, not giving you time to find your footing. I kicked open the door and threw you inside. You landed on your side on the hardwood harshly, concealed by the racks of clothing.

I squatted down so I was at your level. “Stay here, and don’t make a sound. If you’re a good girl for me, I’ll reward you.” I stood up and held the door halfway open. “Bye bye, gorgeous. I’ll be back soon.”

I shut the door on you, shrouding you in darkness. I retreated out of the room as the doorbell rang a second time. “I’m coming, I’m coming!” I yelled, rolling my eyes. I walked down the hall and reached for the doorknob. I twisted it and pulled it open, the rays of the bright afternoon sun shining directly in my face and blinding me.

I held up my hand to shield me from the sun and looked down to see Jim Gordon and Harvey Bullock standing on my doorstep. Jim was wearing a navy blue suit with a periwinkle undershirt and maroon tie. His light brown hair was parted to the right of his head and slicked back. Dark violet circles lined the skin underneath his sky blue eyes. Harvey had a brown leather jacket pulled on over his suit. His striped tie was slightly askew, and his shirt wasn’t buttoned up all the way, allowing a peek of his undershirt to be seen. He had a fedora on over his snarled, shoulder length hair, and the white whiskers that made up his beard were unruly and in need of a shave. They both wore grim, serious expressions, and I could tell they were here for business and not pleasure.

“Detectives Jim Gordon and Harvey Bullock,” I grinned like a cheshire cat and leaned in the doorway, one hand holding the door open, “what a pleasant surprise!”

“Bruce.” Jim gave me a stern nod of acknowledgement.

“Uh-oh. Something tells me you’re not here just to say hello.” I looked back and forth between them. “What can I do for you, gentlemen?”

“Do you know a woman by the name of (Y/N) (Y/L/N)?” Harvey asked.

My body went stiff. _Shit._ Unsure of how much they knew about my relationship with you, I tried to keep my answers as vague and as open-ended as possible. “Yes, I do know her.”

“Then you’ll know that she went missing about a month ago.”

“Yes, I did hear about that. Her family thought she went to Paris, didn’t they?” I clarified, “It’s been all over the news, hasn’t it? Practically every hour. So, the GCPD’s got you looking into runaway girls now?”

“They don’t think she ran away. They suspect foul play,” Jim explained, “and this is a high profile case. She worked as the fundraising chairman of the (Y/L/N) Corporation. Her family wants the best people looking into it.”

“So of course they sent you.” I tilted my head to the side. “Though, I don’t really see what all this has to do with me.”

“A lot of people sighted you with her leading up to her disappearance, and Wayne Manor was the last location we were able to track her phone to.”

My smile faltered for just one second before I managed to maintain it, and I hoped they weren’t able to notice. _Fuck._ I knew that damn phone would get me into trouble sooner or later. “Well, if you came here to ask me if I know where she is, I don’t know what to tell you.” I shrugged nonchalantly.

Harvey took a step forward. “Mind if we come in, take a quick look around?” He pointed to the hall behind me.

I met his gaze. The question was innocent enough, but the sharp, hawklike look in his eyes told me they weren’t quite sure if I was innocent enough. Part of me wanted to ask if they had a warrant, but I knew better than to do that. It would only make me look like I had something to hide. I rolled back my shoulders. What could the harm be? You were locked away, safe in my closet. I would just show them around a little bit, enough to ease their suspicion so they’d get off my back and move on. Plus, I might be able to gage what they knew so far about the situation and get a step ahead.

I smiled at them and stepped aside. “Of course,” I held the door wide open for them and gestured inside, “come on in.”

They stepped past the threshold and into the foyer. I closed the door behind them, and they walked past me. Their heads swiveled from side to side constantly, like they were scanning every single thing they could for evidence to condemn me with. I caught up to them and clapped a hand on each of their shoulders.

“Let’s go to the living room first.” I led them further into the manor and to the living room. I took my hands off of them and walked over to the mini bar. “Can I offer you guys a drink?”

“No, thank you,” Jim denied. “We're on the job, and it’s only two in the afternoon.”

“Well, you know what they say: it’s five o’clock somewhere.” I winked and grabbed a glass bottle of honey brown liquid. I screwed off the top and poured the whiskey into a crystal glass.

Harvey narrowed his eyes at me. “Aren’t you a little too young to be drinking?”

I shrugged. “Are you going to tell on me, detective?” I smirked before raising the whiskey to my lips and sipped. Neither Harvey nor I took our eyes off of each other.

Jim cleared his throat, trying to ease the tension in the room. “Do you have any idea as to why (Y/N)’s phone would be tracked here?”

I broke eye contact with Harvey first and switched my gaze to Jim. I gulped down the drink of whiskey in my mouth, the alcohol tingling my throat as it slid down. “She came over a few times and was always in a hurry in the mornings, you know, ‘cause of her job and all. It’s possible she forgot it here when she was in a rush.”

The detectives exchanged a clearly uncomfortable glance. The implication behind my words was not lost on them. The lie rolled so easily off of my tongue, and as much as I hated acting like you were some meaningless one night stand to me, I had to if I wanted to survive this interrogation. From the looks on their faces, they were buying every word that came out of my mouth.

“Why don’t we move into the kitchen next?” I suggested. They followed me into the kitchen and the dining room attached to it. “It’s so crazy. I can’t believe something like this would happen, especially after her brother died not too long ago.” I leaned back against the island. “Do they still think it was a mugging?”

Jim ran his tongue over his front teeth. “That was the verdict the detectives on the case had come to at the time, but the investigation has been reopened since due to her disappearance, and we’re taking the lead on it now. I can’t say much else because it’s all still pretty confidential.”

I folded my arms over my chest and crossed my ankles. “So you think the same person who killed Brant Jones did something with (Y/N)?”

He gritted his teeth, obviously annoyed by my persistence. “We’re saying it’s a possibility.”

I nodded. “You know, loved ones always like to assume the worst. I talked to (Y/N) a bit after her brother’s death, and she seemed really distraught, like she just wanted to get away from it all.” I gestured with the glass in my hand as I spoke, the liquid swirling and sloshing against the sides. “I wouldn’t put it past her to run off to Paris and disappear off the grid.”

“Might I ask what your relation to Miss (Y/L/N) was?” Harvey ran his finger over one of the cabinets, inspecting the dust that gathered on the pad of his finger.

“We knew each other at Anders Prep and ran into each other at the Towers a couple of months ago,” I described in as little detail as possible. “We went out a couple times, but it was nothing serious.”

“If you don’t mind me saying so, (Y/N) doesn’t seem like the kind of girl you would normally go out with,” Jim remarked.

I grinned. “I don’t know whether to take that as a compliment or an insult, Jim.” I pushed off of the island and headed towards the dining room. “And you’re right, (Y/N) was not my usual conquest, but what can I say? The ladies like what I have to offer.”

“Had any company lately?” I traced Harvey’s gaze back to the two white ceramic plates on the oak wood table with mugs of half-drunken coffee next to them. They were still there from when I had dined with you earlier that morning.

“I brought a girl home last night and made her breakfast this morning.” I set my glass down and stacked the dishes in my arms. “Guess I forgot to clear the table after she left.” I piled them into the sink to wash later.

“It must be hard not having Alfred around to clean up after you anymore.” Jim stopped behind me. “I heard you fired him.”

“Yes, well, you can imagine he didn’t exactly approve of my new lifestyle. It was a natural parting of ways; things had just come to an end between us.” I met his eye. “And I can clean up just fine myself, thank you.”

He was inches from me now, both of our chests puffed out like we were claiming our territory. I looked down my nose at him, and his face hardened. I let him boil under my gaze for a second longer before my lips tugged upwards into a smile. I clapped my hands together, the sound bouncing off of the walls.

“Anything else I can show you, detectives?” I looked between them, my tone chipper.

“Yeah, how about you show us your bedroom before we leave?” Harvey shoved his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket.

My complexion paled, and my hands started to clam up. I wiped my sweaty palms on my slacks as discreetly as possible and laughed slightly. “An odd request, but sure. Right this way.”

I snatched my whiskey off of the table and downed the rest before putting the glass in the sink along with the rest of the dirty dishes. Then, I guided them down the hall to my bedroom. The door was wide open, and all three of us entered the room. I eyed the closet door nervously and stood in front of it, hoping to block it from their field of vision.

I kept my voice down, hoping you wouldn’t realize we were in here. “I’m sorry about the mess,” I apologized, although there was nothing really out of place. The bed was unmade, and the drawer on the side table was still pulled out, but all that was inside was a small, silver key that was imperceptible unless you looked real close.

Jim opened one of the drawers on the dresser and peered inside. When all he saw was neatly folded sweaters and button downs, he pushed it back in. Harvey noticed the brush I had used on your hair earlier lying haphazardly among the covers and picked it up. He held it up to the light and examined it closely.

“Oh, she must have left that here,” I fibbed. “I’ll have to return it to her, if I can remember her name,” I joked.

The detectives didn’t laugh. Harvey plucked a strand of your hair off of the brush and squinted his eyes at it. For a second, I thought he was going to take it with him to run some DNA tests or something, but then he flicked it off of his finger. He watched it float through the air before it drifted to the ground, and he replaced the brush on the bed.

They continued combing through my belongings until their ears pricked up at the sound of something coming from within the closet. All three of us froze, and I felt a singular drop of sweat roll down my forehead. I focused on the noise until I could place it: the sound of clothes rustling and hangers jostling together on the rack. Their heads snapped to look behind me at the closet.

“What was that?” Harvey’s eyes narrowed until they were slits.

I opened and closed my mouth like a fish out of water, struggling to come up with an excuse. “Wayne Manor isn’t what it used to be. We do get the occasional mouse scurrying about, and I haven’t figured out how to set the mouse traps yet.” I forced a breathy laugh, but it came out as a strangled wheeze like I was choking on air.

Both of their eyes turned to rock hard stone, like they could see straight through the door to you inside. They took a threatening step in my direction when the radio hanging from Jim’s belt started to crackle. They stopped in their tracks, and Jim took the radio from off of his belt. He pressed a button on the side and huddled in the corner to talk to whoever was trying to communicate with him. Harvey stood down and walked over to Jim, listening in on the conversation he was having.

When they were done, Jim replaced the radio on his belt. They both turned around to face me, seemingly distracted from what had just happened moments ago. “Well, I think we’ve seen all that we’ve had to. There’s somewhere else we have to be.”

I smiled weakly at them. “Of course. Let me walk you to the door.”

I took them back down the hall and into the foyer. “Sorry for taking up your time.” Jim put his hands on his hips, moving his suit jacket out of his way and flashing me the gun in a holster hanging his belt. “We know you’re a good man, Bruce, but we have to follow standard protocol when it comes to these sort of things.”

“That’s all right. I know how it is.” I dismissed his comment with a wave of my hand. “I always find myself at the center of whatever is happening in Gotham anyway. You and I have that in common, don’t we, Jim?”

He nodded. “It was good to see you again. I wish it had been under better circumstances.”

“Well, feel free to come by anytime.” I grinned from ear to ear as I held the door open for them. “My door is always open.”

I watched them stomp down the cobblestone steps to their black, classic car parked in the circular driveway. Jim got in the driver’s side, and Harvey got into the seat beside him. Their doors slammed shut with a resounding click, and Jim revved the engine. I watched the car tear out of the driveway and down the long stretch of gravel leading to the wrought iron gate. They had eaten up every twisted truth and imaginary tale and made up lie that I had fed them, just as I hoped they would. Hopefully, it would be enough to put away any doubts they had and ease their speculation.

I waited until they were past the gate to close the door. My feet padded against the hardwood as I ran down the hall and into the bedroom. I plucked the key out of the drawer in the side table and pulled open the door to the closet. You were on your back with your restrained arms crushed underneath you. Tears streamed down your blotchy cheeks, and saliva dribbled out of the corners of your mouth and down your chin. You made a gurgled sound around the ball gag shoved in your mouth.

I stooped down next to you and wrapped my fingers around your bicep. I lifted you up to stick the key into the cuffs, freeing your hands. I tossed the key and the handcuffs aside, and you rubbed at your sore wrists. I reached behind you and undid the clasp on the ball gag. I took it out of your mouth, and you wet your dry, chapped lips with your tongue.

I put the ball gag down and let my gaze rake over you for a moment. Then, I reared my hand back before bringing it down on your face. Your head fell to the side due to the impact, and you clutched your offended cheek. A strangled sob escaped your lips.

“I told you to be quiet.” I grabbed your chin and forced you to look at me, squishing your cheeks. “Why don’t you listen to me? Shouldn’t you know what’s best for you by now?”

“I’m sorry!” you yelled, but the words were nearly unintelligible by the way I was holding your jaw.

I leaned down so my face was centimeters from yours. “Do you not want me to treat you well? Do you want me to hurt you?” I growled, drops of spit flying and landing on your face. “Do you not want to get your reward?”

Your large, doe eyes went round. “What is it?”

My hand clenching your chin shook before I dropped it to my side. You fell backwards and caught yourself on your hands. I drew in a breath and let out a sigh, looking over you again. “Come with me.”

I stood up and scooped you up in my arms, carrying you bridal style. You reluctantly let me and didn’t put up a fight, opting to loop your arms around my neck for balance instead. I took you into the living room and set you down at the chair at my desk. I leaned down and pulled open the bottom drawer. Your eyes were glued to me as I pulled out the false bottom and took out the iPad I used to keep surveillance on your penthouse.

“Here.” I kneeled in front of you and held up the iPad so you could see. “This is what I hooked up all the cameras in your penthouse to.”

I switched it on and replayed some footage the camera in your bedroom had captured a couple of days ago. Your mom was lying on your bed, clutching one of your old, designer dresses to her chest. Several more were scattered across the floor leading to your closet. She had obviously ransacked and pillaged through your stash of clothes. She looked the complete opposite of the well-dressed, put together, sophisticated woman she usually played the part of. Her bleached blonde hair was streaked with white and hung in loose strands around her face. Her legs were hugged to her chest, and purple tears tainted with mascara ran down her face, cutting through her caked on foundation and staining your dress. Her whole body was racked with sobs and shook as she wailed.

“They’re all still there. All your things are still there. She continues to pay your rent every month.” I looked at you. “She’s still holding out hope for you, that you’ll come back to her.” I reached out and cupped your cheek, my hold on you just tight enough to serve as a warning. “Do you want to give me a reason to crush her hope?”

Your eyes were glued to the screen, and I could see the reflection of your mom crying on your bed in your eyes. You slowly shook your head. “No.” Your chin wobbled as a single tear ran down your cheek.

“Good.” I put the iPad down on the desk and pulled you into my chest. “Listen to me from now on.” I petted your hair and cradled you in my arms. “Do exactly as I say, and everything will be all right.”


	17. Stockholm

I watched my fingers run through the red water, leaving small, little ripples in its wake. I submerged my hand further below the depths until it looked entirely crimson, tainted and stained with blood. Then, I pulled it out and watched the ruby red liquid run down my palm and seep into the crevices of the lines tracing my pale skin. Drops trickled down my wrist and wetted the sleeve of my black button-up rolled up to my elbow.

I gripped the edge of the bathtub and leaned over, the lip digging into my chest. I stared at my reflection in the murky water. My jet black curls were tousled, and my eyes looked impossibly dark, like two blackholes sucking in all the light that hit them. My reflection was tinted in shades of red, like my whole body had been bathed and soaked in blood. I smiled and watched the lips of my reflection do the same.

I sat back on my heels and hugged a knee to my chest. “Gorgeous, come in here!” I turned my head and yelled to my bedroom.

You appeared in the open door to the bathroom, pulling your cream-colored, silk robe close around you. “What is it?”

I rose to my feet and walked over to you, placing my hands on your arms. “I want you to take a bath while I make dinner, okay? Think you can do that?”

You looked up at me and wrinkled your nose. “I’m a grown woman. I think I can handle taking a bath by myself.”

I chuckled and ran my fingers through your hair. You flinched at my touch, but didn’t move away. You tore your gaze from me and focused instead on the bathtub. Rose petals floated on top of the water, and soapy bubbles lined the perimeter of the tub. The sweet scent of vanilla wafted from the thick, white candles on the corners of the tub. They flickered with warm orange flames, and heavy drops of wax rolled down their sides. The water was a deep, dark red.

“Why is it red?” you asked the first thing that entered your mind.

“You don’t want to bathe in the blood of my enemies?” I scooped your hair up in my hands and off of your neck. You shot me a glare, and I laughed. “I’m kidding. It’s a bath bomb, rose water something-or-other,” I rambled.

I twisted your hair up on top of your head and secured it in place with a clip from the counter. I reached for the tie around your waist and slowly undid it. You kept your arms glued to your sides and your eyes on the tiled floor, your lips pressed into a straight line. I moved behind you and gripped the collar of your robe. I pulled it down until it fell to the floor, pooling around your feet and leaving your form bare.

I placed my hands on your shoulders, and you tensed under my touch. I leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder. “Get in the tub,” I commanded in the most soothing voice possible.

You stepped away from me and walked towards the tub. You lifted one foot and dipped your toe in the water. You winced and retracted your foot. You waited a second, staring at the curls of steam drifting off of the surface, before stepping into the tub. Your face scrunched and screwed up as you tried to bear the heat. You gripped either side of the tub and lowered yourself into the water. You kept sinking lower and lower until the leather collar around your neck was completely submerged.

“Don’t bother. It’s waterproof.” I started towards the bedroom, but stopped in the doorway. I looked over my shoulder and grabbed the handle of the door. “I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.” Then, I closed the door behind me, concealing you from view.

I went to the kitchen and threw on an apron, tying it behind me. I walked over to the radio on the counter and switched it on. I flipped through the channels until I found one blasting classical music. The air filled with the notes and chords of Chopin’s “Nocturnes,” and I got to work preparing our meal.

My thoughts spiraled into how adorable you looked in your robe, how nice it was drawing a bath for you and making dinner for you. I wanted to do stuff like this everyday for you, to pamper you and spoil you like you deserved, as long as you behaved correctly. I could just see this becoming our daily routine. I would lavish and take care of you during the day, and at night, I would fuck you until you broke. I felt my cock twitch in my pants at the thought. I shook my head, distracting myself before I could get too carried away with my imagination.

When I finished cooking, I went back to my bedroom. The door to the bathroom was still closed, and if I listened closely, I could hear the subtle splash of water in the tub. I walked over to the closet and opened it. I spotted a garment bag dangling from a hanger and reached for it. I pulled down the zipper and took the dress off of the hanger inside. Just as I spun around, I heard the bathroom door creak open.

You leaned in the doorway, a white, fuzzy towel wrapped around your bare form. “I bathed,” you stated, looking down at the hardwood beneath your feet.

I looked you up and down. A drop of pink-tinted water dribbled off of your collarbone and disappeared under the towel between the valley of your breasts. I licked my lips. “Good.” I nodded approvingly. “Get dressed, and do your makeup and hair.” I laid the dress out on the white duvet.

You creeped closer to me, staring at the dress. It was a floral pattern with a full skirt fluffed with tulle and a plunging neckline. “How much did that cost you?” You jutted your chin in the direction of the garment.

“Well, it’s designer and custom made, so a good amount.” I took a pair of scarlet heels out of the closet and set them down at the foot of the bed. Truth be told, I had actually splurged on you more than usual with this dress, but seeing it on you would make every dollar worth it.

“Custom made?” You raised a brow.

“Yeah, to fit you.” I looked up at you and grinned. Your face went blank. “What? You think I don’t know your measurements by now? I sleep by you every night, gorgeous, and most of the time we do a lot more than just sleep.” My tone grew low and husky.

I snaked an arm around your waist and pulled you flush against me. I leaned in close to you, smelling the soap from the bath on your skin. You lifted one hand from the hem of the towel and pressed it against my chest, pushing me away just a little bit. I laughed slightly and backed down.

“Oh! I almost forgot the finishing touch.” I opened one of the drawers in the dresser and took out a rectangular, crush velvet box. “What outfit would be complete without a little bling?”

I set the box down on the bed and opened it. Inside was a necklace and matching earrings made of square cut diamonds. They caught the light and reflected it in rainbow fractals. They were worth hundreds of thousands of dollars, and most people would have to sell an arm and a leg in order to buy them. However, most people weren’t Bruce Wayne.

You were like a moth drawn to the flame, the sparkle of the diamonds reflecting in your eyes. “What’s this all about?” you asked, furrowing your brow.

“You’ll have to wait and see.” I smirked slyly. “I’ve got something special planned for us tonight.” I cupped your cheek and brushed my thumb over your cheekbone. “Now, you go get ready, okay?” I smiled softly at you and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

You nodded and retreated to the bathroom. I returned to the kitchen and served two plates of food on white ceramic plates. I balanced them in my hands as I stepped out onto the patio.

The sky was the color of faded denim, the trees silhouetted in black with their branches reaching up towards the stars. It was the color the sky turned as a promise that night would soon fall and the world would be shrouded in darkness. Strings of lights hung above the patio, lighting up the dark. Rose petals were scattered across the ground, leading to a black, metal table in the middle with two chairs. A dripping candle sat in the middle of the table, burning proudly. It was a warm, summer night, and lush, green plants surrounded the perimeter of the patio.

I set the plates down on the table and smiled proudly. I discarded my apron and rolled down the sleeves of my button up. I grabbed my blazer from where it hung over the back of one of the chairs and slung it on. Tonight was a very important night. If I played my cards right, maybe you’d start to think of me differently. Maybe we could move to the next level, up to the next stage.

“Woah.”

I whirled around to see you standing in the open doorway of the manor leading to the patio. You had the dress on. It fit you perfectly, like a glove. Your hair was groomed and glossy. You had enough makeup on to accentuate your features, but not so much that it was overbearing. The diamond earrings hung from your ears, and the necklace encircled your throat over the collar. You looked absolutely stunning.

You gaped at the patio. “How have I never been out here before?”

As great as it was seeing you all dressed up in the outfit I had chosen for you, my lips twisted into a frown. I raced over to you and pushed you back into the manor. I pressed you up against the wall, knocking the wind out of your lungs. I clamped a hand over your eyes and leaned down so my lips were right against your ear.

“What are you doing? Did I tell you you could come out?” I hissed. When you didn’t respond, I pushed against you harder. “Huh? Did I?”

“N-no.” Your voice wavered, and you shook your head fervently.

I gritted my teeth before stepping back, letting you go. You opened your eyes and blinked rapidly, your ribcage rising and falling. “All well. I have many more surprises where that came from.” I raked my gaze over you. “You look beautiful.”

Your hands raised to fiddle with the collar around your neck. “Maybe... you could take this off? It kind of clashes with the look, don’t you think?” You stared at me, your doe eyes all round and innocent.

I smiled and shook my head. “You look perfect.” You were going to have to do a lot more than that if you wanted to fool me. You should know that by now. I held up a finger. “Stay right there.”

I walked over to the table. I picked up a bouquet of a dozen red roses wrapped in white wrapping paper and tied with a black, silk bow. I presented them to you with a beaming smile on my face.

“Here you go.” I held them out to you.

You looked down at the bouquet in my arms. “Thank you.” You took the bouquet from me and held it awkwardly, like you were unsure of what to do with it. You raised the roses to your nose and sniffed, taking a whiff of the sweet scent of their petals. Your posture was abnormally rigid, and the way you moved was robotic. I could tell by the look on your face that you were uncomfortable in this situation.

I walked over to the table and held out one of the chairs for you. “Please, sit down.”

Your heels clicked against the ground as you walked over to me, stiff and tense. You sat down, and I pushed your chair in. I walked around and took the seat opposite you at the table. You set the bouquet down next to you on the ground and glanced at the food laid out in front of you. “Is that—”

“Spaghetti carbonara?” I finished for you. “Yes, it is. I remember you mentioning that when your parents weren’t busy running their company, it was one of the rare dinners you would all sit down and eat together.” I unfolded my napkin and placed it in my lap.

You stared down at the heap of pasta piled onto your plate. You folded your hands in your lap, fiddling with your chipping french manicure. You chewed on your scarlet-painted lip thoughtfully.

I picked up a bottle of wine off of the table. “Can I interest you in a glass of Pinot Noir?” I asked.

You nodded. I took the cork out of the bottle and picked up the empty wine glass set in front of you. I tilted the bottle of Pinot Noir and poured the dark red liquid into the glass. I stopped when it was halfway full and put it back down in front of you. I filled my wine glass next and put the cork back in before setting the bottle down on the table. I held my glass by its stem and tipped my head back, guzzling some of the sweet, warm liquid. You didn’t touch yours.

I gulped down my mouthful of wine and put my glass down. “Your food’s getting cold, gorgeous. Aren’t you going to eat?” I gestured to the untouched plate still sitting in front of you, waiting. “I know you must be hungry.”

You looked at me and clenched your jaw before flickering your gaze down to your plate. You lifted your shaky hand and grabbed the silver fork off of the table. You brought it down on the plate and twirled a few noodles around the twines. You stuck it in your mouth and slurped the pasta off, chewing slowly. The more you savored the food, the more your eyes lit up and widened in surprise.

“So, how is it?” I asked after a while.

You swallowed. “Good,” you said the word shortly and concisely, but I could tell you meant it despite yourself. “I can’t believe you remember that.”

“I remember everything about you, gorgeous. I can’t help it.” I grinned at you, but you wouldn’t raise your gaze higher than to look at the table. “Speaking of being sentimental, I got you a gift.”

You perked up. “What for?” You eyed me suspiciously.

“We’ll talk about that in a minute.” I leaned over and grabbed the black, gift bag from under my chair. I reached over the table and held it out to you. “Here you go.”

You took it from me hesitantly and looked down at the white tissue paper on top, concealing what was underneath. “What is it?”

“Well, you got to open it in order to find that out.” I cracked a smile. “Go on. Open it,” I urged you.

You tore through the tissue paper and ripped it out of the bag. It floated through the air before coming to rest on the flagstone ground. You picked up the bag with both hands and peered into it, scrunching your forehead in confusion. You reached into the bag and pinched the corner of the neatly folded sheet inside. You slowly pulled it out, revealing a rust-colored blotch staining the stark white fabric. Your eyes grew to the size of saucers, and you hurled the bag away from you like it was set on fire.

“What the fuck?” you shrieked. You scooted as far back in your chair as you could. “What was that?”

“What?” I tilted my head to the side and pouted. “Do you not like it?”

You gripped the bottom of the chair in one hand to stabilize yourself and pointed at the bag laying haphazardly on the patio five feet away from us with the other. “Did you kill someone?” you asked.

I drew my thick brows together. “No, of course not. Do you not remember?”

You stared at me, your mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, and I could tell you were wracking your brain. The legs of the chair scraped against the ground as I pushed it back, standing up. I walked over to the bag and bent down to pick it up.

“These are the sheets from when I cut you during sex the first time.” I took it out of the bag and spread it out, displaying many more stains like the one you had discovered scattered across the sheet. “I saved it as a reminder of that night. That experience was very special to me.” I smiled fondly at the memory.

“You mean you kept those sheets as a souvenir of when you tortured me while you raped me?” you stated bluntly.

My jaw ticked. “You can choose to think of it like that, yes.” I started to refold the sheet.

“I’m not choosing to think of it like anything. That’s what happened.” You leaned forward in your chair. “Why are you doing this, Bruce? What’s with the flowers and the meal and the gifts?”

I stuffed the sheets back into the bag and reoccupied my chair. “Well, it’s our three month anniversary, gorgeous. We met each other three months ago from this day.” I chuckled. “Well, for the second time anyway. And I just wanted to remind you how lucky I am that you decided to come back into my life all those nights ago, and show you how much I love you,” I said the last three words softer and lighter than all the rest.

You gaped at me, your mouth hanging open and your jaw slack, like you were truly at a loss for words. The sound of cicadas chirping in the bushes filled the silence that settled over us. I shifted in my seat nervously, heat making its way up my neck and creeping its way to my face to tinge my cheeks pink.

“Well?” I asked after a while, my voice slicing through the quiet like a knife. “Aren’t you going to say anything?”

“Like what?” you scoffed. “What am I supposed to say? That night was the biggest mistake of my life. I wish I had never set foot in that seedy, little club of yours,” you spat.

I stuck my tongue in my cheek. “You were supposed to say you love me back.”

Your face went blank again, and you stared at me, flabbergasted. Then, uncontrollable laughter bubbled out of your throat and escaped your mouth. The sound bounced off of the high walls of the manor and rang out in the open, night air. You kept laughing until your face turned red from lack of oxygen and tears leaked out of the corners of your eyes. Eventually, you stopped cackling and had to gasp for air, clutching your stomach that continued to shake with silent laughter.

“What in the world would make you think I would say that to you, hm?” You wiped away your tears with the back of your hand. “Did you really think all the fancy clothes or the bouquet of red roses or the bloodstained sheets would make me fall for you? Or what about what you really were up to all those months, all the stalking and kidnapping and abuse? Or how about when you killed my brother? Was any of that supposed to make me love you?”

“Why are you so set in your ways?” I retorted. “Why do you refuse to look at things from my point of view?”

“Because I’m not demented.” You narrowed your eyes at me until they were slits. “You know what I think?” You leaned forward and pressed your palms flat against the table. “I think you’re scared of me.”

It was my turn to scoff. “Me? Scared of you?” I leaned back in my chair and folded my hands behind my head. “You’re joking.”

“You’re afraid of me, terrified actually.” Your eyes burned holes into me. “I have control over you, and you’re not used to someone else having so much power over you. You feel so useless, so helpless, a slave to your emotions. You don’t know what to do about it.” You smirked smugly, like you were picking me apart piece by piece. “That’s why you felt the need to kidnap me, to trap me and hole me up in your manor. If you just let me run rampant, there’s no telling what I could do with so much control over you.”

I shot out of my chair and wrapped my fingers around your collar. I yanked you out of your chair so your face was inches from mine, wiping the pleased look off your face. “Shut up! Shut up!” I shouted, the sound deafening. “I’m the one with the control here. Everyday, I decide whether or not you eat, whether or not you sleep, whether or not you breathe.” I twisted the collar tighter in my grip until my knuckles turned white, and you gasped. “So don’t think for a second the tables have turned or the shoe is on the other foot, all right? I am in control, and I always will be.”

I let go of my grip on your collar, and you fell into your chair. You slumped in the chair, your chest heaving. I stretched my fingers and tugged on the lapels of my blazer. I sank into my chair and scooted closer to the table, picking up my fork.

“You’re never going to set me free, are you?” I shifted my gaze to you, and your head lolled to the side. “Everyone knows I’m missing now. There’s no way I can just reenter society without questions going unanswered. All that talk about returning to my old job and going to parties, it was all just a sham.” You stared at me. “You like having control over me too much to give it up.”

I dropped my fork, and it clattered against the table. I wanted to feel anger, for rage to surge through my veins and thrum until I was vibrating at a million miles per hour. I wanted overwhelming heat to rise up and swell inside me until it was unbearable and I burst into flames, burning down everything around me. But instead, my blood ran cold through my veins, and tears welled in my eyes. I opened my mouth to scream, shout, anything, but all that came out was a strangled sob.

It sounded so strange and foreign, as if it hadn’t really come from me. You raised your brows, and your lips formed a small ‘o’ shape. You looked taken aback, like you had expected anything from me but this. I felt the same way.

“I just wanted you to love me.” My voice was oddly small and soft. “I just wanted to hear you say it, like when you said it to Brant.”

I felt something wet hit my cheek. I swiped at it and looked down to see a single tear on the pad of my finger. I hadn’t even realized I had started crying. Another ran down my cheek, and another joined it until it was like an endless waterfall of tears trailing down my face. It was like a dam had cracked and broken inside of me, flooding me with grief and sorrow. _No one ever loves me. No one ever wants to stay, not unless I make them._

I felt a palm slide over my hand, and I looked up to see a hand resting on mine. I furrowed my brow and blinked through my tears to see you reaching out to me. Your skin was soft and warm against mine. It was such a strangely sweet gesture for someone who was supposed to hate my guts. You stared at me, but there wasn’t any animosity or hostility in your gaze. There was just pity, and sadness.

Suddenly, a voice came from behind me, jolting me out of my stupor. “Bruce?”

I wiped away my tears with the back of my hand and twisted around in my chair. Every muscle in my body seized up when I saw Grace Blomdahl standing a few feet away in a tight, black dress. I slowly rose from the chair, making sure you were still blocked from her view. “Grace? What are you doing here?”

“I rang the doorbell, but I guess you didn’t hear it because you were out here.” She moved closer to me. “I wanted to check up on you, make sure you were okay.”

“Don’t come any closer.” I held out a hand, and she stopped in her tracks. “How did you get here?”

“I drove. Is everything all right?” She took one step closer to me, and her face paled. Her eyes focused on something — or rather someone — behind me, and I knew she had seen you. “(Y/N)?”

You stood up cautiously, like any sudden movements would set off a bomb rigged to go off at any minute. “Grace, listen to me. You have to run away now.” Your tone was calm and levelheaded.

I could practically see the smoke wafting off of what little gears were sent into overdrive in her head. “What are you doing here? I thought you were miss...” she trailed off as realization dawned on her.

You rounded the side of the table. “Grace, run.” Your urgency was starting to show through. “Run now. Get in your car and drive to the GCPD.”

She switched her gaze to me, and it was like she was glued to the spot. “Bruce, what’s going on?”

You took another step forward, but I shot out my arm to stop you. “That’s far enough, gorgeous.” I kept my eyes trained on Grace as I reached for the steak knife on the table behind me.

“You have to run!” you shouted. “Grace!”

Your voice finally shook her out of her trance, and she started back the way she came. But I was on her before she could even take a step in the other direction. I pulled her back flush against my chest, trapping her with an arm around her waist. I held the knife against her throat, digging it into her skin not enough to break the skin, but just enough to sting. Her body tensed against me.

“No!” you exclaimed, holding out your hands to stop me. Your eyes were large with desperation. “Please! Don’t kill her!”

I chuckled and shook my head. “I’m sorry, gorgeous, but she saw you. I have to kill her, or she’ll squeal.” I pressed the blade in deeper, and she let out a hopeless whimper.

“No! Please!” you begged, tears falling from your red, irritated eyes. “I’ll do anything!”

I cocked my head to the side and pursed my lips. In a flash, I snatched my wine glass off of the table. I moved the knife from her throat and crashed the glass against the side of her head. It exploded into a thousand pieces and rained down on the ground. Dark red wine splattered against her, mixing with the blood leaking out of the bits of glass imbedded in her skin. Her eyes rolled back in her head before she collapsed to the ground with a solid thud.

Your eyes followed her body as it dropped. You exhaled, your chest hollowing out a little bit, and I could tell even though you knew this was far from over, you were relieved. I shifted the knife in my grip. My free hand stung with a piercing pain, and I looked down to see pieces of glass sticking out of my flesh. Blood trickled out of the tiny cuts and ran down my palm. Heavy, red drops dripped off and hit the flagstone ground.

“Did you mean it?” I asked you. “When you said you would do anything?”

You nodded, jerking a single, shaky tear from your bloodshot eye. “Yes.”

I digested your answer for a second. “Good.” I pointed down to Grace’s unconscious body with the knife in my hand. “You can start by carrying her inside.”


	18. I Love You

“Stop! Let go of me!” You thrashed your bare legs against the bed, your feet kicking the mattress. “Stop it! Untie me!”

I finished tying your hands to the headboard, pulling the rope tight with my teeth. I sat back on my heels and dusted off my hands, admiring my handiwork. Your completely naked and exposed form laid face up on the bed. Your hands were painfully restrained above you with thick rope to the headboard. You tugged against your constraints, but I had double and triple tied those knots. There was no way you were getting out of them.

“There, perfect.” I grinned like a crocodile barring its teeth. “Now, let’s wake up our guest, shall we?”

I turned to face where Grace was at the foot of the bed. She was still out cold, with rope looped around her wrists to the arms of the chair and around her ankles to the legs. Her head lolled to the side, drool dribbling out of the corner of her mouth and staining her dress. She had dried up, crusted blood on the side of her head where some bits of glass still stuck out of her skin, and she reeked of the Pinot Noir I had dumped on her.

You looked fearfully between me and Grace’s unconscious form. “What are you going to do to her?”

I smiled sweetly at you. “Well, I promised not to kill her, didn’t I?” I scooted to sit closer to Grace on the bed. “At least, not until I’ve had my fun first.” I raised my palm and smacked Grace in the face. “Wakey, wakey, Grace! Time to wake up!”

I gave her other cheek a solid slap for good measure, causing her head to fall to the other side. Her cheeks were turning a violent shade of flushed red. “Stop it!” you yelled. “Get your hands off of her!”

Grace’s eyelashes twitched before her eyes fluttered open. She blinked, her pupils foggy and clouded with sleep. She slowly stirred out of her unconsciousness, lifting her head. She sat up straight in her chair and tried to stretch her limbs against her restraints. When she couldn’t extend them all the way, her brow furrowed. She tried again, this time jerking ferociously against the rope. Her eyes shot open, no longer dazed and confused.

“Good morning, Grace.” She jolted at the sound of my voice, and she snapped her head forward to make eye contact with me. “How did you sleep? Well, I hope?”

“Wh-what’s going on?” she stuttered, straining against her bonds. “Why did you do this to me?”

“I have to say, you really don’t know when to stop, do you?” I shook my head and laughed. “You really just can’t stay away. I mean, I’m used to girls being all over me, but you? You’re a whole new level. I mean, I literally called out another girl’s name during sex and straight up told you to fuck off, and you still couldn’t stay away.”

“Help!” she screamed at the top of her lungs. “Please, somebody! Help me!”

I let out a disappointed sigh and rolled my eyes. “There’s no point in screaming. No one is around for miles.” I reached over and grabbed my pocket knife off of the nightstand. “I already explained all this to (Y/N) once when I first took her.” I flicked it open and held the blade against her throat. “But the difference between you and her is that I don’t care if you die.”

“Bruce, stop!” you objected. “Please, don’t hurt her! You don’t have to kill her!”

I looked over my shoulder at you. “I don’t have to kill her?” I repeated. “What am I supposed to do then, gorgeous? Let her go? She’ll tell on me if I do that.”

“Then keep her here with me,” you begged. “Please, anything, just don’t kill her.”

“Why would I keep her here? I don’t care what happens to her, gorgeous. I don’t care if she lives or dies. It would be pointless and a strain on my resources, not to mention she’d be a pain in both of our asses.” I gripped the handle of the knife harder until my knuckles turned white. “But I have to say, I admire how much of a fight you’re putting up. I can’t say it’d be the same if the shoe was on the other foot.”

I stared at Grace and analyzed every movement she made. I relished in the way her entire body quivered slightly. Beads of sweat formed on her forehead and ran down her face. She squeezed her eyes shut, forcing tears to roll down her cheeks and leave tracks in their wake. She swallowed roughly, and the blade pressed deeper into her skin, drawing a thin line of blood. It was no where near as pretty as yours, but it was still a sight to see nonetheless.

I retracted the knife from her throat. “I won’t kill you, not yet anyway.” I set the knife back down on the nightstand. “First, I want to show you how much more (Y/N) means to me, more than you ever will.” I pulled my shirt over my head and tossed it to the floor. “There are actually a lot of differences between you and her, and I’m going to make you watch all the things I do to her that I’ll never do to you.” I placed a hand on your ankle.

“Bruce, stop it.” You gritted your teeth. I ignored you and slid my hand up your leg to your knee. “Don’t touch me.”

I leered down at you. “Fine, I’ll gag her, gorgeous, if that’ll make you more comfortable.”

I leaned over and grabbed a handkerchief off of the nightstand. I sat back up and reached for Grace. She leaned away as far as possible until her back was pressed against the back of the chair. She whined as I shoved the handkerchief into her mouth, muffling the noise. I tied it behind her head before letting go. I watched as she bit down on the cloth and shook her head form side to side, trying to shake free, but it was of no use.

“There.” I turned around and focused my dark gaze on you. “Now, where were we?”

I crawled towards you on the bed. “No.” Your voice started out small, but slowly grew in intensity. “No! Stop it, Bruce! Get away from me!”

You started to kick your legs again as I drew closer, but I easily caught them. I spread your legs and pinned them to the mattress with my hands, exposing you to Grace. You shrieked and wriggled your upper body, pulling on the rope tied around your wrists. It stayed strong. I settled between your legs, smirking up at you. Then, I stuck my tongue out and swiped it through your folds.

A shudder ran through you, and you bucked your hips. Though, whether it was to get away from me or out of seeking more pleasure, I couldn’t tell. I lowered my head again and licked another stripe up the length of your slit. Your voice cracked, and you arched your back against the bed, the back of your head digging into the pillow. I wrapped my lips around your clit and took it into my mouth, sucking. You parted your lips to let out another bloodcurdling scream, but nothing came out. Instead, your expression twisted into one of pleasure, and a breathy moan escaped your lips.

I continued to lap at you, swirling the tip of my tongue around your clit. I tried to listen to what Grace was doing behind me, but she had gone silent. I could feel your body slowly giving into me, and you stopped trying to fight me, too preoccupied with the pleasure I was causing you. I lifted my hand and pressed my finger against your entrance. You tensed against my touch, and I drew circles around your entrance. I felt your juices gather on the pad of my finger and smiled against you.

I pulled away from you, my chin wet with a mixture of your slick and my saliva. “Are you sure you don’t like this, gorgeous? ‘Cause you’re dripping.” The obscene sound of your arousal as I rubbed my finger over your entrance became abundantly clear, and your complexion flushed pink. “I think you like being watched.”

You opened your mouth to deny it, but I pushed my finger into you before you could get a word out. You squeaked instead and went stiff against me. Your pussy clenched down on my finger as I thrust it further into you.

“Shhh,” I placated you in a soothing tone. “Show her how good you are for me, how well you can take me.”

I pumped my finger in and out of you, stretching your walls. When I thought you felt prepared, I pressed another into you. I twisted my wrist as I moved my fingers in and out, and I curled them to brush against that special spot deep inside of you. You gasped, and your hands flexed against your constraints, except I didn’t think you were trying to get out of them anymore. I think you wanted something to hold onto, to bury your fingers in my dark curls and yank on them to stabilize yourself as the world spun around you.

I attached my lips to your clit as I thrust my fingers in and out of you. I moaned as I sucked on your swollen bud, sending vibrations that went straight to your core and shot tingles up your spine. Your moans started to increase in frequency and grow higher in pitch. I sped up the pace of my fingers to match the speed of your rapidly impending orgasm. You looked down at me, and my eyes met yours. I curled my tongue around your clit as I slid my fingers all the way into you, and that was all you needed to come undone.

You closed your eyes as your orgasm washed over you, a high-pitched mewl falling from your lips. I proceeded to finger you through your high, placing kitten licks on your clit that sent aftershocks through you. I detached my mouth from you and pulled my fingers out, licking them clean. I turned around to look at Grace behind me.

She was sitting in the chair, silently, tears streaming down her cheeks and gathering at her chin. They dripped off and hit the skirt of the dress she was wearing. She gripped the arms of the chair, her nails digging into the wood and leaving scratches. The look in her brown eyes was unreadable; it was a mix of fear, and horror, and the slightest hint of arousal. It made my pulse spike and my blood burn with a blazing fire.

“I’m sorry, gorgeous,” I leaned over and fumbled for the pocket knife on the nightstand, not taking my eyes off of her, “but I want to hear Grace for this next part.”

I reached for her and ripped the handkerchief out of her mouth. She sucked in a breath and parted her lips, preparing to scream. But before she could, I flipped the blade out.

It all happened so fast. One second, she was fine, and the next, her throat was cut open. The blade sliced through her skin in an instant. Her eyes bulged like they were about to pop out of her skull. All the light and passion and emotion that had been in them a moment before drained and seeped until they were filled with nothing. Just two black holes void of life.

“No!” you shrieked, your voice shaking the bedroom walls.

Then her head fell back, and blood spurted out of the incision in her neck. It hit me in the face, and I winced. It drizzled over me like red rain and coated me in a thick, sticky layer. You were screaming behind me, thrashing on the bed as some of the blood hit you and trying to press up against the headboard to avoid the spray. I embraced it. I lifted my chin up to the ceiling and closed my eyes as it washed over me, running my fingers through my dark curls.

When you fell silent, I tried to wipe the blood out of my eyes but only succeeded in smearing it all over my face and hands. I opened my eyes anyway, blinking rapidly. Blood no longer spewed out of the deep gash in her neck like a jet stream. Instead, dark red liquid oozed out in heavy drops and stained her skin. Her head lolled to the side, and her body slumped in the chair, completely limp and lifeless. Her eyes were still wide open, but they were out of focus. They saw nothing. They were dull and gray, devoid of all color. She was an empty shell, a barren husk of the person she used to be. Her jaw hung open in a scream that would never come.

I twisted around on the bed to see you still tied to the headboard. Your eyes were glued to Grace’s dead body, like it was too horrific to look away from. Your body was coated in a thin sheen of sweat and a layer of blood. The sheets next to you were spotted ruby red, and your chest heaved. Your whole body trembled, every inch of you on edge. It made my cock twitch at the thought of your veins pumping with pure adrenaline, of fear coursing and rushing through you.

I clawed at the sheets as my eyes turned dark. I moved towards you like a predator stalking its prey, the mattress groaning in complaint underneath me. You snapped out of your trance and switched your gaze to look at me. You writhed on the bed, the rope digging into the skin of your wrists as you did so. You kicked your legs at me as I neared, shouting incoherent babbles of desperation. I easily apprehended your offending limbs and once again spread your legs for me.

“You’re a monster!” you yelled so loud your voice went hoarse, your complexion matching the color of Grace’s blood. “Monster! Monster!”

I wondered if that was the only word your brain could comprehend at the moment. I chuckled, and your face contorted with anger. You reared back before spitting in my face. Your saliva landed directly on my nose, running down the bridge. I lifted my hand and gathered it on my fingers before sticking it in my mouth, humming with pleasure. The pleased smile on your face vanished, and you backed away from me as far as you could on the bed.

I took my fingers out of my mouth, sucking them dry with an audible slurp, before descending on you. My mouth attacked yours with a voracious growl, and I shifted so I pinned your legs down with my knees. I reached down and undid the zipper on my slacks. Dragging it down felt like it took forever. I hooked my thumbs under my slacks and boxers and pushed them down in one go. You yelped, but my mouth swallowed all the noises you made. You fought against me as I forced my tongue past your lips and into your mouth. The kiss was a mess of teeth and tongue and lips, but it only served to fuel my desire for you.

I pushed your knees up by your shoulders and positioned myself at your entrance. I pulled away from your lips, out of breath and my lips swollen. I stared into your eyes as I pushed into you, my face centimeters from yours. You yelped, and the sound echoed in my ears. You were still slick from the orgasm I had previously given you, so it was easier to thrust into you to the hilt. I pulled my hips back and snapped my hips against you sharply, jolting you on the bed. You let out a shaky exhale, your warm breath fanning my face.

I set a slow and steady pace, enjoying the feel of you around me. I let out a low groan. You were so tight and warm and wet. I pressed my chest against yours, our bodies sliding against each other with blood. I sped up, digging my fingers into your hips so hard I was sure I would leave bruises. Your wails and hollers were barely audible over the noise of skin slapping against skin. The mattress squeaked underneath us in time with my thrusts, and the headboard knocked against the wall, though because of you tugging on the rope or my thrusts, I couldn’t tell.

I leaned down so my lips grazed the shell of your ear as I spoke, “Say you love me,” I whispered.

You shot me a crazed, untamed, wild look. “No!” you cried.

“Say it.” I snaked my arm between our bodies and brushed your clit with my thumb. “Say it, and I’ll make you cum again.”

You curled your upper lip at me. “I don’t care!” you shouted. “I’ll never say that to you! Never!”

I rubbed circles over your clit in time with my thrusts. Your defiance weakened for a moment, and I could see the need in your eyes. Just as your breath hitched in your throat, I retracted my hand, and you let out a whine I didn’t think you meant to. I glared down at you. “Say you love me!” I anchored myself on my hand next to your head.

You wiggled underneath me. “No.” Your voice was breathy. I could tell your resolve was fading fast and your walls were breaking down.

My hand returned to your clit, and I tilted my pelvis so I pounded into you at a new angle. The head of my cock brushed against that spot inside of you with every thrust. I pressed down harder on your clit, and you squealed. “Say it, or Grace won’t be the only person I kill today.”

Your eyes flashed with fear, and I knew that I got you hooked. You bit your bottom lip before mumbling something I couldn’t hear.

“What was that?” I asked in a condescending tone.

You clenched your jaw and repeated yourself a little louder. But your voice cracked, and all the vowels and consonants seemed to slur and blend together into one giant, indistinguishable mess.

“A little louder, gorgeous. I can’t hear you.” I rammed into you at an inhuman speed, pulling all the way out before impaling you again roughly.

You swallowed your pride. “I love you!” you screamed, jerking tears from your eyes. They ran down the sides of your face and collected on the pillow under your head.

I grinned down at you and matched my pace with my hand on your clit. You seemed to forget yourself for a minute and bucked your hips against my hand. You let out a strangled mix between a moan and a scream as you came. Your pussy clamped down on my cock, and your juices ran down your thighs. I continued to swirl my fingers over your clit until you were done riding out your high.

I panted as I pounded into you. I chased after my release and rutted into you ferociously. I grunted animal-like with each thrust. I felt like I was seeing red, and in a way, I really was. I stilled as I came inside of you, spilling my seed into you and painting your walls white. I groaned and closed my eyes, feeling waves of euphoria pulse through me.

I pulled out of you and opened my eyes. I stared down at your form. Your eyes were half-lidded, and your chest rose up and down. You weeped softly, snot bubbling from your nose. I looked down to between your thighs. Cum dribbled out of your pussy and coated your thighs, mixing with the streaks of Grace’s blood that smudged across your skin.

I collapsed on top of you, crushing you with my weight. Every cell in my body thrummed at what I had heard you say. Even though you had only said the words once, they seemed to echo in my ears until all I could hear you say was “I love you, I love you, I love you,” in your sweet, heavenly voice over and over and over again.

I know I had made you say it, and I know you didn’t mean it, not even close. But laying on top of you covered in blood, I could almost convince myself it was true.


	19. Red Lights

_Dig._

_Throw._

_Dig._

_Throw._

The sun was setting as I shoveled dirt on top of the freshly dug grave. It sunk below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of blood oranges and russet reds and royal purples. I had found a good spot in the back of the garden obscured by a rose bush and some lemongrass. Usually, the garden looked whimsical and full of life, but now everything looked so dark and bleak. It looked drained of color, like it had gone from technicolor to black and white. Even though it was the end of summer, I could swear there was a chill in the air that bit and nipped at my skin, like I was in the middle of a stark, barren winter. I could almost forget where I was and think I was in an empty graveyard in the dead of night.

_Dig._

_Throw._

_Dig._

_Throw._

I kept a steady rhythm as my hands worked. A burning simmer started in my spine and spread throughout my back. It ran through my limbs and reached all the way to the balls of my feet and tips of my fingers. It transformed into a dull ache over time and stung my nerve endings. My hands were rubbed raw and red, and my joints and bones and muscles screamed at me to stop, but I couldn’t. Not until this was over.

My shoulders hunched over as I stuck my shovel in the pile of damp earth next to the grave. I lifted it up and hauled it over my shoulder, launching it into the rectangular hole in the Earth. I could no longer see her face, but six feet below where I stood was a cold, dead body riddled with flies and worms and maggots that crawled all over her rotting, gray flesh and peeled back her blue-tinged skin. Her eyes would be open forever, but never seeing anything. Only black.

_Dig._

_Throw._

I smoothed over the top of the grave with the back of the steel shovel blade, sifting through the soil. Then, I threw the shovel down next to me and wiped the sweat that had gathered on my brow with the back of my hand. I settled my hands on my hips and stared down at the fresh patch of dirt surrounded by dewy grass at my feet. Maybe I’d plant a row of multicolored tulips there, or a blackberry bush for you, and no one would ever know.

I headed back inside, airing out my sweat soaked shirt that clung to my skin. My muddy shoes left a trail of footsteps on the hardwood floors in my wake, but I didn’t care. I’d clean it later. I came to my bedroom door and found it still closed, just as I had left it. I grabbed the handle and twisted it, pulling the door open.

The room was clean now. After hours of dousing the sheets in bleach and scrubbing the floors until my hands throbbed, the room looked like it always had, like nothing wicked or sinister had ever happened there. But I would always see the blood on the white sheets, the ruby red liquid that had painted the floors and coated our bodies in crimson. Something told me you always would too.

“There’s my pretty girl.” I smiled and stepped towards you, the floorboards creaking under my feet.

You were sitting on the edge of the bed with your legs dangling off of the side. You were fresh out of the shower, the blood long gone, and droplets of water dripped from the ends of your hair, hitting the white sheets. You wore a white eyelet dress that compliment your complexion perfectly. It showcased all of the scars on your arm, some old and some new, raised and red and standing out on your skin like brushstrokes on an otherwise blank canvas. You were my masterpiece, covered in blue and purple bruises, and I wanted to hang you up on a wall for everyone to see.

I rounded the bed and stopped right next to you. “How are you feeling?”

You didn’t seem to register my presence, even though I was inches from you, and my voice filled the silent room. You stared at the wall in front of you with droopy, unfocused eyes, your spine curved. I lifted my hand and gently placed it on your shoulder, almost hesitantly. Usually, you would flinch or wince when I touched you, but you didn’t react at all.

“I know what happened was... traumatizing,” I stumbled over my words, “but you understand why I did what I did, right?” I looked down at you and traced my finger along the line of your jaw. “She would’ve taken you away from me.”

Still nothing. It was like my words weren’t reaching your ears. I leaned forward and buried my nose in your hair. The smell of soap and green apple shampoo clung to you. I stepped back and retracted my hand from you. I tilted my head to the side, raking my gaze over your form.

“Take off your dress,” I commanded. Without a moment of hesitation, you gripped the hem of your dress and pulled it over your head. You wriggled out of it and laid it down on the bed next to you. Then you folded your hands in your lap, clad in only a white lace thong.

I walked over to the dresser and pulled out the top drawer. I took out the pocket knife from its usual place and pushed the drawer back in. I walked over to you, the soles of my solid shoes thunking against the wooden floors, and switched the blade out. I stopped in front of you, the blade glinting in the dim light. In one swift movement, I dragged it vertically down the skin of your stomach, creating just a deep enough incision for blood to seep out. It was about four inches long, and the crimson color of your blood stood out on your skin as it trickled down.

I shifted my gaze up to your face. There was no sign of a reaction, no scream, no gasp, not even a twitch. Nothing that showed me you had processed it all. Your eyes remained blank and glazed over, like you were lost in some sort of trance. Part of me desired to cut you again and see how much pain it would take to make you scream, to push you to the edge of death.

Anger bubbled inside of me, and I struck your face with my hand. The clip echoed in the room as your face turned to the side. You didn’t make a sound. “Say something!” I shouted, spit flying. I couldn’t tell whose face was redder, mine from rage, or yours from the blow I had just landed to your cheek.

You looked up at me at last, but it was like you weren’t really looking at me, but through me. “What do you want me to say?”

My mouth fell open, and I stumbled back a step. I drew in a breath. I had broken you. I had dreamed of breaking you for so long, of getting you to bend to my will and do my bidding, that now that I had it, it was bittersweet. I could no longer see you tremble with fear like I so loved to. No more passion, no more emotion. It’s like you were an empty husk, all the life sucked out of you. I couldn’t tell who I had truly killed: Grace, Brant, or you.

I heard a creak come from somewhere inside the manor, like a door swinging on its hinges, and my ears pricked up. “Nothing. I want you to say nothing.” I pointed to the dress on the bed, my eyes glued to the open doorway. “Put that on and stay here. Don’t go anywhere unless I tell you to.”

You started putting on your dress, and I moved towards the doorway. I stepped out into the hall, swiveling my head from side to side. I shifted the handle of the knife in my hand. Drops of blood ran down the blade and splattered on the floor in perfect, dime-sized, ruby red drops. Every cell in my body vibrated, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood on edge. I was on high alert. I tiptoed into the foyer to find the double front doors wide open. The carved, oak wood around the lock was splintered, as if it had been forced open.

“Bruce.”

I spun around on my heel to see Alfred standing behind me. He was panting, his chest heaving up and down, and sweat slicked his skin. “Where is she?”

I stood tall, puffing out my chest. “Where is who?” I asked in a condescending tone.

He narrowed his eyes at me. “You know who I’m talking about. I know you have her.”

“Well, then you’d know that having this discussion is pointless.” I leaned against the doorframe and crossed my arms.

His gaze flickered down to the knife in my hand, and he clenched his jaw. “Did you...” He couldn’t bring himself to voice the words out loud.

“Kill her?” I finished for him. He stared at me and exhaled. I scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous. Why would I try to make it look like she went to Paris if I was just going to kill her?” I pushed off of the doorframe and swung the knife in my hand as I walked. “What a waste of time and effort.”

“I know you care for her, Bruce, and that scares you.” He stepped towards me. “I know you think you’re doing the right thing, but you’re hurting her.”

“You say that like you think I don’t want that.” I smirked at him.

His jaw ticked. “Just show me where the girl is, and I’ll be on my way.”

“What, so you can rat on me to the cops?” I snickered. “No, thank you.”

“There’s a reason I came here by myself, Bruce, otherwise I would’ve just called the GCPD a long time ago and let them handle it.”

“But you do want to take (Y/N) from me, and unfortunately, that I cannot allow.” I waved the knife in the air as I spoke. “You said it yourself: I care for her.”

“I’m not leaving without her, Bruce.” The look on his face was grim and serious. “I’m willing to do whatever it takes.”

“Whatever it takes to get me back on your leash, huh? I know that’s what this is all about.” I stopped in my tracks and spread my arms out wide. “You want to protect me, to control me, but I can’t be controlled anymore, Alfred. I’m unhinged, and there’s no going back.” I raised my hands in front of me. “Why don’t you stop trying to protect me and put your money where your mouth is?”

He shook his head solemnly. “I don’t want to fight you, Bruce.”

“Really? ‘Cause I do.” I slashed at him with my knife, but he caught my wrist. He twisted my arm in his grip at an uncomfortable angle until I had no choice but to release the handle of the knife. It clattered to the floor noisily. He stepped on it with his shoe and pushed it away. It skidded across the floor and hit a wall before coming to a rest.

He quirked a brow at me. “Then let’s make the fight fair.”

I glared at him and slammed my foot down on his. His hold on my arm loosened just enough for me to slip out of. I bent my elbow and shoved my forearm into his chest. He stumbled back, allowing enough distance between us. I swung my fist at him before he could catch his footing, but he raised his hand just in time to block me. I threw my other hand at him, and his arm shot out to catch it. He pushed me back with his hands on me before letting me go. I fell backwards until my back hit the wall. I lifted my head to see him striking up a fighting stance, beckoning me to come at him with his hands.

My hands curled into fists at my side. I hurled another fist at him with a cry of anguish. He stopped my offending fist inches before it could connect with his face, but I brought my foot up at the same time. I landed a solid kick to his stomach, taking him by surprise and knocking him back. He doubled over in pain. I grabbed him by the shoulders and lifted my leg to knee him in the chest, but he latched onto my thigh before I could.

He swept me off of my feet, and my back collided with the hardwood floor. I laid there for a moment, sucking in air, before placing my hands on either side of my head. I kipped up, kicking him twice in the chest before landing on my feet. He pulled his arm back, and before I could react, his fist slammed into the side of my head.

A sharp, buzzing noise filled my ears, and gray dots clouded over my peripheral vision. My teeth scraped against the inside of my cheek, cutting my flesh. I stumbled to the side and braced myself on the wall before I could completely collapse. I blinked rapidly and shook my head, clearing my vision. The noise faded away, and I focused on Alfred’s face in front of me. His eyes were wide, and his mouth formed a small ‘o’ shape, like he couldn’t really believe he had punched me.

I raised my hand and swiped my thumb at the corner of my mouth. I glanced down at the pad of my thumb to see a drop of scarlet blood there. I looked up at Alfred and grinned. I could feel blood flood the side of my mouth, staining my teeth, and trickle out of my mouth.

I came at him with a flurry of fists, my face contorted with anger. He blocked each one successfully, but I backed him up into the corner of the foyer. He caught each of my wrists and held them above me. He crashed his forehead against mine, and I was sent sliding across the hardwood. I landed on my side, my head spinning, and rolled over onto my back with a groan. I sat up on my elbows and clutched my throbbing head to see Alfred stalking towards me.

“(Y/N)!” I called out, crawling away from him. I reached for a vase of flowers on a nearby table and chucked it at him. He dodged it, and it splintered into a thousand ceramic pieces against the wall behind him. The wall was painted with dry soil, and a sad, wilted flower with a limp stem fell to the floor.

Alfred continued to draw closer and closer to me. “(Y/N), come here now!” I scooted backwards on the floor and grappled for a frame next. I briefly glanced at the photo. It was the picture me and my parents took in the garden on my seventh birthday, bright smiles lighting up all of our faces. I lobbed it at him with a yell, but he once again avoided my assault. The glass in the frame cracked as it hit the wall before dropping to the ground, shards of glass spilling across the floor.

My head bumped into the wall as I moved back as far as I possibly could. I looked up to see Alfred gaining on me, setting alarm bells off of in my head. I looked around for something else to throw to buy me time when I noticed the discarded pocket knife from earlier. I stretched my arms and fumbled for it. “(Y/N)!”

“Yes?”

I raised my head to see you standing in the archway leading to the hall opposite me. Your dress was back on, and a drop of blood ran down your leg. I scrambled to my feet just as Alfred came upon me. He extended a hand out to stop me, but I grabbed onto it, using his momentum to flip him over me and onto the floor behind me. He landed with a grunt, and I dashed over to where you were. I moved behind you and trapped your back flush against my chest with an arm around your waist.

Alfred slowly got to his feet only to see me holding the knife to your throat. “Don’t come any closer,” I warned.

His gaze switched back and forth between me and you, and he swallowed roughly. “You’re not going to hurt her, Bruce.” He shook his head.

I shifted my weight between my feet, fidgeting with the handle of the knife in my hand. You were still against me, like you were lost in some kind of dream, and I was surprised to find that I was the one shaking. “You’re right,” I breathed out after a while. “I’m not.”

The noise was barely audible at first, but I could feel it in my bones. The faint wail of police sirens could be heard in the distance, and it became louder and louder as it grew closer. I narrowed my eyes at Alfred. He had called for backup ahead of time.

_Fuck._ There was no way I would have time to take him down before the police showed up, let alone secure your safety. I grabbed the magnet hanging from the chain around my neck and touched it to the back of your collar. It gave way, and I tossed it aside. It fell to the floor with a metallic clang and landed face up so the light glinted off of the silver letters spelling ‘Mr. Wayne’s’ in all caps.

“Sorry, Alfred.” I kept the blade of the knife against your throat as I shuffled us over to the open doorway. “It’s been nice to catch up,” I stopped in the doorway and grinned at him, “but I’ve got to go.”

I walked backwards through the doorway and pulled you with me, never taking my eyes off of him for a second. When he was out of my line of sight, I moved the knife away from your throat and let go of you. I looked around for some way to get out of here quickly, and my gaze landed on Grace’s silver Porsche parked at the curb of the circular driveway. I ran towards it and reached for the handle of the door to the driver’s side. _Please be unlocked, please be unlocked._

The door clicked open with a satisfying pop. Not only was it unlocked, but her keys laid haphazardly on the tan leather seat. _Rich people truly are too careless and trusting._ I looked back at you over my shoulder. You were standing idly in the driveway, the skirt of your dress and your hair whipping in the wind. I jabbed at the car with my thumb. “Get in the car!”

At my words, you came to life like some kind of robot. You walked around the car and got in on the passenger’s side. I picked up the keys and climbed into the driver’s seat. I slammed the door shut behind me and jammed the key into the ignition, revving the engine.

“Where are we going?” you asked. I looked over at you, but you faced forward, staring blankly out of the windshield.

The steady thrum of the engine filled the silence that fell over us. I adjusted the rearview mirror and saw the reflection of red and blue flashing lights behind me. I couldn’t go out the gate now or they would catch me. I needed some place close by and discreet, somewhere nobody else would be and nobody else knew about. I tapped my thumbs against the steering wheel. When realization dawned on me, I sat up straighter in my seat. I had almost forgotten what day it was.

“Hold on, gorgeous.” I spun the steering wheel, turning the car off of the path. “It’s about to get really bumpy.”

The car rocked as I drove over the curb. I slammed down on the gas pedal with my foot as I sped through the garden. The wheels of the Porsche ground up any flowers or bushes I drove over and tore up the earth. I maneuvered around trees and stone benches and fountains that blocked my path. When I spotted the back gate, I watched the red arrow on the gas meter tick higher and higher. I clenched my jaw as I ran straight into it at full force. There was a bit of resistance and the crunch of metal, but then the gates flew open and banged into the brick wall. I drove through it and pressed down on the brake before the car could go spiraling out of control.

The paved roads turned to dirt paths, the limestone walls of mansions into towering, striped, slender tree trunks, and the sirens faded into the distance. You were quiet next to me during the drive. You sat slumped in your seat, barely blinking, barely breathing, your lips parted. I wondered if I peeled back your skin and hair and bone and peered into your head, what I would find there. Would it just be black and white, fuzzy tv static? Or would I find myself staring into Grace’s cold, dead eyes?

I caught a glimpse of myself in the rearview mirror. My dark curls were disheveled, and faint bruises littered my skin. I had a scratch on my forehead, and blood stained the side of my mouth. My eyes looked impossibly dark, darker than they ever had before. They were like two dark holes burrowed deep into the earth, and if you fell into them, you would keep tumbling down, down, down, and never reach the bottom. I looked completely deranged and disturbed, like the mask of sanity I had worn for so long had disappeared, revealing the true me underneath.

I stopped driving when the hill got too steep to drive up any more. I kicked open the door and ran around to your side of the car. I wrenched open the door and pulled you out. I intertwined my fingers with yours and dragged you along behind me, our feet crunching the dry grass beneath us.

“Do you know where we are?” I asked, and you shook your head. “We’re at Mount Bristol. I don’t know if I ever told you this, but every year, my father and I would go camping here. We would come up here and place a rock on the top of the mountain. After he died, Alfred tried to keep up the tradition, but it just wasn’t the same. It felt forced.”

The sun was completely gone now and replaced by the moon in the sky. The stars twinkled up above, and everything around us was black. Tree branches seemed to come out of nowhere and scratch at our skin. Your bare feet were caked with mud, and I began to become plagued with exhaustion.

I was starting to think I couldn’t go on for much longer when the plane started to even out. The mountain sloped out as we came to the top, and I nearly bumped into the stack of rocks at the top, almost toppling it over. I stopped in my tracks and stared down at the tower of stones. They were large, flat, rounded rocks piled on top of each other, each one inscribed with the initials BW or TW.

I turned around and looked at you. You were slightly swaying on your feet, like there was a melody only you could hear playing in your head. “Truth is, I don’t know why I brought you up here, gorgeous.” I laughed slightly. “I’m running out of options. I don’t think there’s a way out.” I smiled sadly at you. “I think I’m out of control.”

Suddenly, the sound of sirens filled the air. It was deafening and vibrated the trees. It scared crows, and they squawked as they flew up into the open, night air. The trees around us were lit up in shadowy silhouettes by red and blue flashing lights. Obscured figures surrounded me on all sides, shoulders squared and guns drawn. I pulled you flush against me again and whipped out my pocket knife, holding it to your throat.

“GCPD!” a voice pierced the air, a voice that I had heard many times. Jim Gordon marched ahead of all the other cops, his pistol aimed at my head. “Drop your weapon!”

“One step closer, and she gets sliced open!” I threatened.

Jim halted and raised his hand, commanding all the other officers to do the same. “You don’t want to do this,” he said in his low, gruff voice.

“Is that all you got?” I scoffed, shifting the weight of the knife in my hand.

“Give it up, Bruce!” Harvey fell into step beside Jim. “It’s over! We’ve got you surrounded!”

“It’s not over until I say so!” I shouted.

“Come on, Bruce.” Jim stepped forward and lowered his gun. “You’re not going to hurt her, and you don’t want her to get hurt either. Just put down the knife and let her go.”

My smirk fell from my face, and my jaw clenched. My hand that was holding the knife was trembling. I looked down at you against me. You stood still, not even moving an inch, not a muscle. But it wasn’t out of fear; it was because you were unaware of everything around you.

A single tear escaped from the corner of my eye and slipped down my cheek. _I guess it’s really over._

I took the knife away from your throat and pushed you away from me. “Fine.” I raised my hands with a huff. The knife slipped from my grip and fell to the forest floor. “Take me away, detective,” I taunted.

The second the knife was out of my hand, the officers descended on me like vultures on a carcass. An officer came up behind me and roughly jerked my hands behind my back. He slapped a pair of handcuffs on my wrists and hauled me down the hill. He yanked on my arms until sharp jolts of pain shot through my limbs and pulled me in tow until my feet tripped over one another. He took me down to where a squad of cop cars were waiting for me. He crushed me against one of them, my cheek squished against the window.

“Hey, stop!” I protested. My voice came out mumbled and indiscernible against the glass. “Stop! Stop it! You’re hurting me!”

“You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be held against you in a court of law...” the officer continued to read my rights, his voice blaring directly in my ear. But I stopped listening as I saw you being led to one of the other cop cars.

A slew of officers were gathered around you, talking in soothing tones and asking you questions with pitiful looks on their faces. You didn’t say anything. You looked rattled, hugging the fleece blanket they had given you tighter around you. The bright light from the headlights lit up your form, making you look like a ghost. Whatever spell you had been under before was now broken.

The cop put a hand over my head as he shoved me into the back seat of the police car. I leaned my head against the window, my arms awkwardly crushed against the back of the carseat behind me. I stared at the blue and red flashing lights casting across the fogged up window. But mostly the red.

Mostly the red.


	20. Atonement

The interrogation room was sterile and cold. The walls were stone, and the floor was concrete. I sat in a rigid chair, handcuffed to a metal table in front of me. There was one way in and out: a door in the corner of the room. It was locked, and I was sure that it had a deadbolt on the outside. The sounds of my breathing and the beating of my heart were extremely audible in the otherwise quiet room. The only colorful thing in the room was the dot of red light on the white security camera in the corner. Everything was impenetrable, built to keep people in not out, like a prison.

But I guess I was a prisoner now.

I stared in my reflection in the one way mirror. The scratch on my forehead had scabbed over, and I still had dry, crusted blood trailing from the corner of my mouth down my chin to my jaw. Brambles and cotton fuzz stuck to my black turtleneck, and dirt and grass stains smeared across my black slacks. My eyes weren’t so dark anymore. They were back to their original honey brown. I didn’t know if anyone was on the other side of the mirror looking in, but if there was, I wondered what they thought of me. Did they see a beaten up rich boy who lost his head at some point along the way? Or did they see a monster, all of the horrid and terrible things he had done written all over his face?

The turning of the lock on the door sounded like a gunshot in the deadly silent room. My head snapped to the door, and I waited with bated breath as it slowly creaked open. All the air left my lungs as your form filled the doorway. You looked completely different from when I had last seen you. Your hair was well-groomed and glossy. You wore Louboutins, a black pant suit, and a white blouse underneath. Your signature diamond necklace encircled your neck. You stared at me with wide eyes, like I could break out of my handcuffs and pounce on you at any moment. You didn’t move from the doorway.

“(Y/N),” I breathed out, a small smile on my face. “You came to see me.”

You gripped the doorframe with your hands and clenched your jaw. “I don’t have much time. I slipped an officer a hundred to get me in here.”

My heart fluttered in my chest at your words. Could it be possible that you still felt something for me, even after everything that happened? I didn’t say anything as you stepped one foot into the room like the floor was molten lava. When you didn’t burn up, you closed the door behind you and crossed the room to the metal chair across from me. You pulled it out and sat down, keeping a comfortable amount of distance between us.

I grinned. I couldn’t believe you were here, sitting across from me. “I confessed,” I admitted to you. “I told them everything, everything that happened, everything I did to you.”

“I know.” You narrowed your eyes at me. “You pleaded guilty so you could get a plea bargain for six months in prison.”

My jaw dropped. “That is not true,” I profusely denied. “I did it so that I could be punished for everything I did to you. I thought that’s what you wanted.”

“Well, how sweet it is of you to think of me after all the months you spent torturing me nonstop.” You leaned back in the chair and folded your arms over your chest. “You must have some pretty good lawyers if they can get you off with six months for kidnapping, raping, and torturing a woman.”

“I can’t help that. They wanted to keep the whole matter discreet for the sake of the company. I thought it was the right thing to do.”

You scoffed. “For you,” you mumbled under your breath, rolling your eyes.

I furrowed my thick brows. “I’m doing this for you.”

“What are you talking about? Everything up to this point has been because of you! All of this is about you!” Your voice bounced off of the stone walls. “You even want to be punished because it’s what you think I want, so you can feel better about yourself.”

“If you don’t want me to be locked up, then what do you want?” I asked.

You pressed your hands flat on the metal table and leaned forward. “I want you to rot in hell,” you hissed. “I want you to be torn to shreds and consumed in fire.”

I raised a brow. “Is that really what you want?”

Your gaze flickered down to the table as your rage simmered. “No.” Your tone was suddenly soft and quiet. “I’m not like you. I don’t take lives, especially not those of innocent people who didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I haven’t killed anyone.” A small smirk tugged at the corners of my lips. “Brant Jones was the result of a mugging, and Grace Blomdahl is missing for all anyone knows. Her body hasn’t been recovered, and you know what they say: no corpse, no crime.”

Your hands balled into fists on the table, your knuckles turning white. “You’re so pleased with yourself, aren’t you? So smug.”

My smile vanished. “I’m not. If you’re worried about me not suffering, I will, gorgeous. Every single day I’m without you, I’ll be suffering.” I shook my head solemnly. “I’ll never be able to forget you, never be able to get you off my mind.”

“I’ll never be able to forget you either, because every time I look in the mirror, I’ll see these.” You pulled your suit jacket down your arms and pushed up the sleeves of your blouse over your elbows, revealing raised, little cuts littered across your skin. Some were fainter than others, while some were still shades of red and pink. They ran all the way up your arms to your neck, and I knew you had many more concealed underneath all your layers of clothing. “These scars will never fade. They will always be here, a reminder of all the shit you put me through.” Tears welled in your eyes.

I stared at you, stunned. I tried to feel guilt or shame, but pride bloomed within my chest at seeing the evidence of what I had done to you. Now, no matter how much you tried, you’d be forced to remember me. I would always be with you, whether you liked it or not. “I still love you,” I whispered.

“Don’t,” your voice was sharp like a knife, “don’t say that to me. You don’t love me. My mom loves me, Brant loved me. _You don’t love me.”_

“Do you still really believe that?” I questioned. “Why else do you think I would’ve done the things I did?” I tilted my head to the side, studying you intently. “I still remember when you said it to me, you know.”

“Because you made me!” you fired back.

The handcuffs rattled as I moved my hands. “I gave you everything.”

“You took everything from me!” The chair scraped against the concrete as you halfway rose out of it and slammed your hands down on the metal table. The bang echoed inside the small room. Your eyes widened as you stared down at me, and you drew in a sharp breath. “I’m filing a restraining order against you.”

My heart sank to my stomach at your words. I slumped in my chair, my back arching inwardly. My stomach hollowed out as my spine curved. I kicked my legs out in front of me. It felt like all the energy had been sucked out of me. It was just a piece of paper, but it made all the difference.

You sat back down, adjusting your blouse and suit jacket. “I hope you’ll abide by it and keep your distance after you get out of prison, or it’ll be pretty worthless and a waste of my time.”

“I will.” I nodded. “I will. I promise.” And when had I never kept a promise to you?

“Then take a good look. This is the last time you’ll ever see me.” And even though your image was burned into my brain, I did what you said. I raked over the violet bags under your bloodshot eyes and your lips pulled taut into a straight line, committing each detail to memory. Even dead tired, you looked beautiful. How could I ever get you out of my system?

“Goodbye, gorgeous,” I breathed out, my voice small.

You bit the inside of your cheek. “Don’t call me that.”

You stood from the chair and went over to the door. You wrenched it open and stepped into the hall just as Alfred approached. You both made eye contact as you passed each other, exchanging words that went unsaid. His eyes followed you as you retreated down the hall, disappearing into the shadows, and I listened to the noisy click clack of your heels against the concrete until they faded into the distance.

Alfred stopped in the doorway and turned back to look at me. “Are you ready, Master Bruce?”

I replied with a soundless nod.

I was sent to an out of state prison and rehabilitation facility. I got out in three months on good behavior and making substantial progress. Those three months, I spent jotting all this down on any scraps of paper I could find. I wrote it all down from the beginning — at least the second beginning — all the bad parts and the good parts and the sick, perverted things I did that should never be written down, let alone spoken aloud. Everything I could remember, and I like to think I remember everything about you, about us. Or at least almost everything.

I’ll always think about what would’ve happened if I hadn’t have dropped out of Anders Preparatory Academy that day, if I hadn’t have killed Ra’s al Ghul. If I hadn’t have let my desires get the best of me, if I had pursued a normal relationship with you and severed off the twisted, depraved part of myself. If I had listened to you and left you alone. If I hadn’t have turned to drugs and drinking and sex for comfort and had been better for you. I’ll always be plagued by what ifs. They’ll always swarm and swirl in my head like a hurricane wracking the shore.

When I came out, I learned you quit your job as fundraising chairman of your family’s company. You moved out of Gotham with your stepmom, and I think you operate on your own now. You could never lose your will to give, I knew that about you. I had only looked up your name a couple of times.

I rehired Alfred as my butler, and I’m back at Wayne Manor now. I don’t hang out with Tommy anymore. The last thing I need is to go back down that path again and hurt someone else. There will never be someone like you. Alfred pushed me to take a more active role in Wayne Enterprises again, and I finally took his advice and listened to him. It’s not enough to fuel my soul, but nothing is anymore. Nothing ever was, except for you.

I don’t know where you went, but I made good on my promise. I didn’t look for you. I didn’t search for you. I let you disappear off the face of the Earth as if you had never been there in the first place. I’m playing by your rules now, but I can’t let you go just yet.

I’m giving this letter to Alfred to deliver to you. He says he knows where you are and that he’ll give it to you. I don’t know if this will ever make its way to you, if it’ll get lost or if Alfred will pocket it or if you’ll tear it to shreds and burn it before reading a single word, but if there is some way you are reading this, there is something I want you to know.

I didn’t apologize to you at our last confrontation because I knew you wouldn’t accept it. It would be like a slap in the face, like nails on a chalkboard. The last thing you want to hear me say is I’m sorry because no amount of apologies in the world, no way that I could string the words, could ever make up for all the things I did to you. But I am sorry. I do feel regret and remorse, and that’s something that I was starting to think was impossible for me. In a way, you gave me one last gift before you left. Maybe now I can start to heal.

I don’t expect you to forgive me. I definitely don’t expect a reply to this letter. I don’t expect you to reach out and wipe the slate clean and start over. I don’t expect another beginning, even if they say third time’s a charm. I just needed to get this off my chest, to lift the weight off of my shoulders, because you may have the scars, but I carry the burden with me everywhere I go.

I may not ever get the punishment you think I deserve, but I lost you, and for that I’ll have to atone for alone.

**THE END**


End file.
